Into The Night

The summer sleeps
and soft crickets play poker
for ripe ripe leaves
while spiders watch
until the losers go home
before they spin their webs
on the winner too full
from his winnings to move
to escape to do something
not to become a meal
while dew paints
the warm dawn
as stillness takes over

by Charles Lara

Comments (1)

Charles, Night splinters into thousands of untold stories, and you've managed to snatch one up. Beautiful! Carol