Each morning I wake up,

shuffle to the kitchen,

brew coffee and

peruse the

glistening trails

on the back doormat

He comes every night,

the anonymous artist,

and leaves another 

masterpiece for

me to admire

and puzzle over

Original works

in transparent

shimmer, ectoplasmic

gleaming slither

waltzing over

warp and weft

There is not

long before the

dizzy glaze,

in dreamlike

fashion, evaporates           

and is gone.

I’m left to wonder.

Maybe this

ethereal etcher

is simply an

insomniac snail

with an itchy tum.