There is a veil, pale thing,
gossamer and corn silk,
woven by Others into the
concrete air we breathe.
If we are reckless, or blessed,
we might meander through,
feeling only the tender touch of
some floating web across our cheek
and wonder were its anchor lies.
Then, for a brief tick of the clock
or a life time, we may stand in awe,
knowing we are not where we ever were before.
The clues are brief but legion.
A giggle echoed in a fire flys flash.
A split seconds sighting of one winged pair
to many in a swarm of spiraling ephemera.
A breeze shaped profile of a wizened face
in a maze of maple leaf lace.

We are safe, surely,
coddled in this swaddling,
caressed by this fragility.

But then, in a twinkling, the familiar beckons us home.
The passing car,
the neighbors dog,
the reminder of our shopping list:
dozen eggs
gallon milk (2%)
london broil
broccoli

We slip back through in time for supper,
a fading memory our only souvenir.