The Web

The web you weave caught hapless fly,

but now that I am grown, I spy

the trickery in every strand,

the feeding frenzy Evil planned;

so – no thanks. Invitations sent

are recognized; their true intent

has been exposed, so say good-bye

to feeding on this wary fly…

To Catch the Sun

To catch the sun, you lay a trap

of steel in dark of deadly night.

Add some bait, perhaps a scrap

of lightning from a stormy flight;

as she mounts horizon’s hill,

the sun will spy allurement there,

cunningly, of her free will,

she’ll glow with joy and trip the snare.

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