Web Lock by Sally James

Frost frozen, preserved in ice for a few hours,

dazzling in the early morning light, my fingers

will not break this delicate weaving. A filigree

of lace, suspended from an old gate to the

cold stone wall of her once existence.

She wove this with her meticulous spinning

and weaving. For a long time it has balanced

untouched, shimmering, enticing. I will not snap

her work of art, this beauty of nature, hovering,

adjoining gate to wall, locking me out.

Fragile like the beating of an old mother’s heart

I will leave it unbroken, let it glitter till it melts.