to the ropes of hot pink petals spilling
over the planter, and the aquamarine

eggshell, its cracked half a small bowl
beside the sidewalk,

and the spiderweb, round and
low in the lawn, a translucent

saucer. What made the spider build
its bed here, where foot

might stomp and trample?
Doesn’t it know the cruelties that creep

through this world? Some days I want
to drift right off this blue planet,

and you would watch me shrink
to a pinprick in all this sky.

Tether me, I pray.
Pull me back to the dew-soaked dirt.

Let me set my worries down
in this small cracked bowl.

Teach me to walk gently
in this fragile place.