Nature’s nurture

Oh, tiny spider bind your thread.

Tight o’er crumbling brick and mortar. Heave now! ‘Til gable ends doth creak. Beneath your sling. The caring glass wire cuts.

To the bone.

Yon weed, limbs crawling forth through swirling mist. Your cascading tendrils tantalise. Prising. Upwards in paving cracks.

Grasping. Capturing. Multiplying.

Moonlit enchantment spirals. Patchwork moss a sprawl. Close quarters rusty gutter’s waterfall. Moths retire. As bats sway.

I lie beneath.

Whence swallows huddle. Soon be the hour for night’s embers to snuff, my love. Ash blanketing black earth once more.

Dew drops swell.

And within these walls, I weep for you.

(Image source:


11 thoughts on “Nature’s nurture”

  1. Your word choices give this piece the feel that people have been reciting it to each other for hundreds of years! And that line: “I lie beneath.” is so morbid. Reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe.


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