Random thoughts hunch and gather,

pass through that fertile landscape,

scatter their haphazard seed

till the fibers of mood and mind

are tugged and pulled and spun —

a web that catches

and vibrates of its own accord.

The hint of Autumn’s sun in August,

blue shadows lengthen,

the time of absence marked.

Grasp at symbol —

faint strain of music,

laughter and conversation;

Don the fetishes —

silver crescent and

cutwork whorls;

Ward against the hollow

and magnify escaping light.

–C.Birde