by Ethel Mortenson Davis

It is because
the earth is tilted
this time of year,
the sun brightest at sunrise,
October light exceptional,
that I can see
silver threads strung
across my path
among the oldest trees,

thousands of gleaming strings
made by tree snails or slugs —
trails of lubricant
caught by sunlight
in a mathematical moment;

glistening chains we put
around our necks
to take home with us
to put in our favorite drawer —
the one labeled “DISCOVERIES”—
there in the back of our mind.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

7 responses to “Discovery

  1. So much to discover if we simply take the time. A timely reminder, Ethel. Thank you.

  2. I love those final lines Ethel: they invite the reader to drift away in thought.

  3. Thanks John. Look forward to your thoughts. Ethel

  4. It takes a poet to notice the importance of tiny details

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