From whence and how
he visited me on this
mid-autumn day, I know not.
But come he did, and
perched awhile atop a table
strewn with verse,
studying my prayers,
not the words I wrote. He
meekly offered his own prayer
so silently that I, impressed
by his reverent posture
and silent breaths, began
to see, through eyes of
childhood, a prayerful companion
stoically spending his final
hour praying with me,
until the chill breeze.
whooshed him along
with whimsy and fright,
his arthropod soul
embracing The Light.
