A bricklayer on his scaffold
Drops a plumb line from the topmost brick
To set it just, just so. If it is straight
His wall will stand and stand.
A poet drops a plumb line from her head to heart to find her voice
Setting her words just, just so. When it rings true
The culture she builds will stand, and stand
God of spider webs
God of the fisherman’s net
You catch the greatest game
with the thinnest of threads.
Your creel is filled with fish
You roast goodness over charcoal for breakfast
You bake my bread early in the morning
You wake me for a walk by water whirling, and why?
Because if even one strand connects my heart to yours
I too will have a happy hook in my lip.