The Cobweb

 A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck
of the house.
 From there I could see and hear the water,
and everything that's happened to me all these years.

It was hot and still.
 The tide was out.

No birds sang.
 As I leaned against the railing
a cobweb touched my forehead.

It caught in my hair.
 No one can blame me that I turned
and went inside.
 There was no wind.
 The sea
was dead calm.
 I hung the cobweb from the lampshade.

Where I watch it shudder now and then when my breath
touches it.
 A fine thread.
 Intricate.

Before long, before anyone realizes,
I'll be gone from here.

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