Threads loop about the cooling drying stalks,
wreathed in rain-spangled spider web
from thistle head to oak summit.

They tie me to the stray that stalks
and perches on the windowsill nights,
looking in.

Threads pull skeins of birds into tight flocks,
slacken as they soar, balloons,
weightless through the clouds,

hauling in the stars
and laughing gull laughter
at the falling rain.

Threads loop and necklace drape
about faces never seen,
drawing words from voices never heard,

but hearts have no need of faces, voices,
and the threads that join them, taut and tight
as gossamer in the rainy meadow,

need never break.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

41 thoughts on “Friendship”

      1. Yes it is. Friends come and go, but friendship never really leaves and I feel as if all the threads will be caught up one way or another some day.

      1. I hope morphine agrees with you. I took it once for a trapped nerve in the neck and had to stop. Slept for 18 hours, woke like a zombie and spent the next three days being violently sick. Just being cheery.

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