Spin, spin my little spider
The traveler of the night;
The moonlight lies awaiting
For you to spin it right;
Each night you've concentrated,
Each night you've spun and spun
But must undo what you did
each time that morning comes.
So, spin my little spider-
Spin a web for me;
That you may learn, with great care-
The trade of the family.

Wild flowers bloom,
drenched in your smiling light,
happy to grow there
in your sheltering gaze;
Where the seasons are long
and carefree-
the cornfields are bright and yellow,
ripe with laughter,
With dappled shadows of merriment
streaking across the fields we explore together.
There is Indian Summer
in your eyes-
You see the clouds,
pearly white like fluffed cotton
and taste the breeze-
moist with the flavors of wild strawberries,
clover,
and honey;
I found this place in your heart
where I can join you,
and feel young enough for this world,
the one so big around us;
I'm here,
in your eyes;
In strawberry fields
that stretch across vast space and time,
reaching out to blanket my heart
in the sweet scent of lost reality;
drawing me into
your Indian Summer.

Cruel intentions,
laid bare on the table,
dim the sparkle of the champagne,
and the happy smiles slide off,
to fall forgotten
underneath the plates;
your foolish words sneak;
crawling like a snake,
over the rich desserts
laden with sickly sweet toppings,
around the silver spoons-
despising its own marred reflection
and spitting cruel poison onto the very fork I eat from.
Your insensitive words cut me to ribbons,
that you stuff in your pocket
to comfort your dry handkerchief,
where no regret exists for your callousness
or your betrayal;
and the pocket-watch
tick
tick
ticks away-
breaking the silence
after your cast-iron declaration;
You sit so coolly, relaxed;
when the walls that supported this house
are falling down around us-
the banisters and chandeliers frozen solid
by a wave of my cold-hearted fury.
When my pained voice cracks
the glacier above your head,
will you still smile and laugh
as you meet your doom?
Will cool water calm your throbbing ego,
poured so effortlessly by my hand
on to that perfect smile?
The water will fly,
and smother that sour sting
of your pride undisturbed,
Sweeping you off your feet,
and down the river,
where the refuse naturally goes.
You are not the only one who knows how to fight-
and yet,
you find relief in arrogance,
in a momentary victory,
believing you have already won-
But I see the truth of your stupidity-
for, only a  fool wages a war
that no one wins.

Cats
on the back of the couch,
live through the windows-
watching the happily fluttering birds
who seem unaware of the
hunting eyes
watching them;
listening through the ventilated screens,
waiting for the door to open-
to escape-
into the wide open outdoors;
To play and leap,
catch and hunt-
to be themselves
as they really are
inside;
a fierce tiger-
prowling the jungles,
proud and majestic,
blending as it hunts the deer...
a panther-
stalking the amazon,
listening to the waterfalls of rustling wings
and terrified heartbeats of small ones crouching in the brush...
a leopard-
running the edge of the savannah
eying the prey it so longingly watches…
A cat is a cat when the wild closes in,
When the wild inside
breaks free-
in my backyard.

Simple or elegant
Rich or detailed
a tapestry-
a bauble-
a candle burning slowly down........
a market place can sell it;
a jeweler can craft it;
an artist can paint it;
but the eyes alone can't see it.
Shaping,
the eyes will mold it,
into reason,
into sense;
but beauty lies within-
not in the eyes of the beholden,
as the phrase goes.
To truly see what lies around us,
we must first see beauty in ourselves.

Barren empty sidewalks
gray and unforgiving,
winding on in never-ending concrete roads;
making un-melodic thumping sounds
as my feet rhythmically step-
dance-
and twirl-
Cold and lifeless buildings,
garter-ed in girders of steel and glass;
reflecting everyone's business-
every nosy little thought,
every scathing deadly glance;
Steep towers of frozen brokers,
daggering into other's precious dreams,
and optimism-
like the person you used to be,
like the hopes you used to have.
Saber teeth tigers leer down from high ledges,
ready to pounce and **** out my resolve-
while I flutter-
whirl-
and waver-
in existence;
teetering on the edge of perception,
of failure;
There is no color in these devoid cities,
no happiness held in these forlorn faces,
no smiles to stoke a burnt-out heart;
Just me-
dancing-
twirling-
leaping-
hoping -
trying-
to make you remember yourself.

Sparkling gusts of silver wind
drive howling through the vale,
the skies are grey and somber
and the air grows foul and stale.
The barren trees stretch overhead,
guarding dark and light
against the winter nightmares,
and the dangers of the night.
The people huddle closely,
stoking fires to keep them warm,
as the snowflakes fall in silence
for a coming winter storm.
Thier frozen hands, thier tired eyes
remember ice and snow,
instead of grass and sunshine
when all things start to grow;
the laughing steps of children,
the hills that called and bade,
the dancing windy flowers
in a thousand different shades.
There in the long cold shadows,
a solemn vow is made-
that green grass will soon awaken,
and offer boughy shade.
For winter's time is ending,
the sounds of life, more than words;
when the piping call of feathers
in the branches high were heard.
Listen now, sad people;
all is not so dark-
the summer's breath's returning,
in the humble voice of larks.
So do not fear the weeks ahead,
the long, capricious cold-
for we are made a promise,
from days long dead and old.
Ice will give way to water,
and water will give us Spring;
Soon, it will be naught but mem'ries
as we celebrate new things.
So, cheer your hearts, my sisters-
soon dark will become light-
Our hearts will ease, our peace be real,
we will be alright.