Thread in a Spider’s Web

A little stream, drawn by the magnets of air and light,
and flowing like time, like copper forming,
is the thread
in a spider's web. Pools of silver shimmer
from one leaf to another, from one path trodden
to another on the soft ground. I see you go across,
over there,between two lines. ‘I love him',
I say.

The little stream forks; flows between
two possibilities.
Its thread is in thrall to this sea of light,
this liquid,
coursing. This water makes the evening sing, heady
and drunk. Its fire flows
on into the east forever. Held in the sun's
fine balance
I think of you.