Cross of Intricacies PsycheGreen

Art by Norman E. Masters


The trap
which foolish fancy builds
is hidden down a winding road,
a cul-de-sac.
The jaws, unsprung,
are held by threads
the mind has spun.
The road,
runs down among fair hills,
roams meadows sweet with rose,
until it meets as sun sets down
a dappled, darkening flow.
The bridge is narrow,
clanking planks
might well have warned your heart,
The trap is sprung
and you are caught
away from all familiar things
within the hollowness of dreams
until time ends.

        Irene Dodge

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