on the tips of the needles
of an odorous pine tree
spits a spider its web
designed with precision
and delimiting worlds
curtailed by the breath
of a wind that is evil
in the savaging whirlpool
that swallows all wailings
amidst flights of stolen
leaves lost in the woods
Guido Comin PoetaMatusèl
Questo/a opera è pubblicata con una Licenza Creative Commons
