Summer’s End

September greets me with intricate webs
Woven diagonally from the gutter to the porch rail.
Last night, silken spellcasters launched 
A veil of protection over my home
To catch the summer's last mosquitos for breakfast.

Eating my breakfast, I gaze into the morning fog,
Wondering if I had eight magic hands, what would I catch?
And could I hold onto it? And for how long?
The gutter web. It disappears 
As quickly as it came.

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