Stone
Opening my eyes
I see a stem, two yellow flowers, and a red spider
which is small -
so small it fits
through the eye of a golden needle.
The red spider hops, glides
across the sensuous, curving petals,
and stops upon a
line of fur,
which is smooth as moss.
It darts off,
always on the move,
looking for food, a friend,
or something.
The flower is still and empty,
a universe of color and warmth
bundled tightly in its silken folds,
with death held back
for at least a moment more.
My eyes darken and
turning upon themselves
an open hand meets the dreamy gaze,
a bird upon a stone.
