Orb Weavers - In Gowan Ring

Once upon the moment of beauty laid long past

The itch on the cheek of a mute mouth clasped

In a twirled looking glass to go or stay

In course at its own display

A pot a pan a cutlery board

A pepper and black spice tray

Time spooled unspinning

Life scrolls unravel

The telling tale wends bends and

Breaks these tomes we travel

Over and again we abide

But which side now of the

Looking-glass facade am I

Memories haunt like diamonds

Reminiscence swirls as smoke

Nettles in the morning

At night steeped straw of oat

Petals of jasmine anemones

In a water bowl afloat

How grace arranged the chance array

Come eventide's shifting glow

Bend and stretch swing and sway

I am as a snake in your hands

Wading loose as oars of two creaky boats

That play patterns with silt on the sand

Black coruscation loam liquid beads

The Orb Weavers spin the length of their wheels