Entry for This or That, Vol 31 Poetry Contest: Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Some time ago, when we were free to do; ten I was, or twelve? I walked along a misty lane to school the etched patterns of ferns and trees on my window when I awoke now echoed in the frozen grass and early ferns being gently crushed by each step I took. The sun had begun its morning due to warm the earth, and generate the day's miasma mist; as did the breathing of the gathering crowd, which hung upon the hedge of privet, hawthorn, yew, to rest upon a thousand spider webs a myriad of droplets dew. And there it was the spider fat and yellow; waiting. Not in the shadows, as the others I had seen but, eight legs akimbo in the centre of it's now opaque web taunting. I had a cricket in a matchbox in my pocket A prize from yesterday's sweet forage. I placed the wriggling insect upon the web and watched the attack the bite the wrap. And so I write
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