Design the dew knows and signs, sudden in light, then gone.
In moonlight, silverblue strung between stars, at dawn, a golden target in the green.
Spider web net of thinking, lined like an old woman’s face.
The spider’s legs move like silent syllables. She dances down her lines like a breath down a nervous question.
Shivering peace, silent war, and what it means the wind knows, winding through our dreams.
So much depends upon how skillfully she conjures death, weaving it gently into life.
Sean Lause is a professor of English at Rhodes State College in Lima, Ohio. His poems have appeared in The Minnesota Review, Another Chicago Magazine, The Beloit Poetry Journal, and Illuminations. His books of poetry include Bestiary of Souls (FutureCycle Press, 2013) and Midwest Theodicy (Taj Mahal Review, 2020).