Beneath my private canopy,
I poise my fingers to dance, to sing,
but into the world of nature, I float,
its most willing visitor captive to hold,
to stroke with soft, soothing sounds.
Single strands of silver web appear when
the intermittent breeze allows;
in and out of lines, I likewise weave myself…

I could leave now
for the day,
or in this poem
forever stay…