deepundergroundpoetry.com
Salticidae
With the winter comes
cold gusts and snow
I sit at home and ponder
(before the window draft)
where the jumping spiders go
Perhaps they ride upon
the great blue-herons back
or dream a dream akin to mine
(of green beneath the folds of white)
from their silky silver flats.
cold gusts and snow
I sit at home and ponder
(before the window draft)
where the jumping spiders go
Perhaps they ride upon
the great blue-herons back
or dream a dream akin to mine
(of green beneath the folds of white)
from their silky silver flats.
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