MAN WITH A RED ASCOT
By Gene Murtha
On early spring morning's
When light shafts shiver through
the canopy at a shallow angle.
And spiders slide down poles
and tiny creatures hover
snagging them and robbing the
spider of it's ride.
Like a wood fairy dancing
in the garden and
sucking the nectar of a
coralbell dry.
With all it's tricks and antics
and a voice with a high speed chatter
and all the mischief they cause
in the forest:
I like their irridescent coats of glimmer.
