Poem | September Morning

Sky clear after rain,
alleviating six weeks of drought;
sunny, with a hint of coolness
in the shadows beside the barn

and under the trees, speckled
with fringe of fleabane;
the orb weaver web on the porch,
sticky with spiral capture silk,

containing another victim—
a praying mantis wrapped in
a winding sheet; and
the Queen Anne’s lace bending

in the meadow under the weight
of a heavy dew.