I talk to this winged-alien because it troubles me
It flies, it drinks and lands upon a tree
I tell it that I am the child-catcher from forgotten fantasy
That I steal dreams and communicate them outlandishly
A spider provoketh beauty quicker than thieves
And yet, we are in the forest enclosed by leaves
(Now: attention I hear you stir
Your feverish wings start to spur)
But I am the most beautiful of things
My patterns leap and bound in the wind
Sewing a tapestry of secrets and kings,
That hover beautifully above these water springs