Legs

[mellington]

A little fire I’ve made
One to huddle near

Knees grasped,
Viewing sparks;
A cloud descends
Dream, returns

Warm. Quiet.
Prone. Isolated
Inside a roiling torrent
Juxtaposed, in dissonance
Gathers an energy
Dark and silent

It asks things, whispers
And answers aloud
On its own, with power
Floats, As smoke,
Wafting through my mouth
Questions, doubts
The little tooth I wonder about

Outside my window
As free as you like I see
A spider spanning two feet by three.

It taps on the glass
Winks three eyes
And I laugh

Let them ,
The ice is melting
I sense a thing
More wicked is stalking