the netted scrim catches my hair
again I bat away the threads of this invisible intruder
as if I were here first
yet oh what wonder when it is not an intrusion

that thing that dew does when it gets stuck in a spider’s web
sunlight diamonding off the petals of a new summer morning
the arch or sunflowers rowed in an Ohio field at dusk

who is to say that my hair nested with this cottoned wigging
is not the great intruder