Spider
Where is the spider
that I saw this morning,
mending its web,
recovering but not retreating
from the storm,
that hit its web last night?
And where are you:
what storm,
what private longing broke the threads
that kept you safe?
Are you recovering,
Retreating?
All these nights and all these storms,
these endless mornings:
what are spiders and mere mortal minds to do?
Sipping my third or fourth cup of tea,
I miss my spider,think of you.