The Prey - Poem by CIRCE TABASAS

early this morning
when i go out of my room
into a garden of trees
and stones
there with all fidelity
the spider is
spinning its web again
in the most usual
and visible manner
connecting a transparent
line from a twig
to another twig of the same

soon another fly
or mosquito shall be caught
as its
unwary prey
the victim never learns
a thing.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 11, 2011

Poem Edited: Monday, December 12, 2011

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