webbed

dew settled morning... the spiders work is done for the night...
sheathes of grass, blown feathers, droplettes...

trapped for the day.

just like queen anne's lace...
spreading out to the world
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,

a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.

- w. c. williams

falling in love at 1223

the door opens

she ascends the steps

her eyes open wide

which fixate on a dress in the corner

just one dress

she falls in love

better yet she feels lovable...

'my husband will go crazy when he sees me in this gown..."

'he is not my boyfriend... but after he sees me in this... maybe!"

"i just cannot stop smiling. i have dreamt about a dress... & this is it"

streaking the sky

streaking the sky...the front tumbles over each cloud...
leaving ripples in its path...