the netted scrim catches my hair
again I bat away the threads of this invisible intruder
as if I were here first
oh what wonder when it is not an intrusion
that thing that dew does when it gets stuck in a spiders 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