Mirror Ball Awnings Poem by Mark. A Heathcote
Mirror Ball Awnings
It's as if gravity were just a joke.
Narrowly swinging on a silken rope.
Tiptoeing on the air, she's all sewn up.
It's as if she's walking on the moon.
Or dancing around a spinning loom.
Her egg sac of young is ready to erupt.
High wire breaking from their trapeze yoke
It's mesmerising to watch, but I baulk.
Away from any form of hand-touching
As I watch in wonder her brood hatching…
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11/20/2025 9:37:25 PM # 1.0.0
