Do Not Think Me a Pundit

 This morning,

a reorter appeared at my door

to ask my opinion of election to be.

"Don't think me a pundit," said I.

"Don't think me a spider," said she.

I closed the door--

watched and waited.

Until, strand by strand,

she consumed her silk.

Later, I opened the door

to wonder if I saw what I heard

or heard what I saw.

No trace of spider,

no proof of web.

 

 

 

Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2024 :: Do Not Think Me A Pundit :: 2401