Ray of August
Morning light
The trickle of a slow
Brook finds no ear but it
Travels just the same

Eying the base of the garden
My many legs climb
Filled with Spring and tired
Life is good but I'm
Drawn to a dream

Spinning I make my bed
Soft and light
Careful with every rope
No teacher here but I
Have this feeling

To twig I'm tied
In a breeze my hammock
Swings lazily
Back and forth, rocking
With no care in the world

Life is hard, but remember
To be soft sometimes
So I soften
Wipe the board
Draw up a new figure

Nights pass, and days
A spot of rain keys
The lock for a new song
Tilted and restless my
Pattern forms

The sweet tweet of old
Enemy sings
Rousing I wake in my bag
Ready again to take on
A callous Earth

The canvas rips, and from it
Appears a work of art
Still wet with paint but
The wind dries this
Creation like a kiln

Climbing again
I take my roost on the
Tallest flower
A flutter and a fall
Gliding I soak in the

Ray of August