To Spin, To Tell

After the storm, the funnel spiders are revealed.

In the wash of drops from the trees, those webs spun with such care to invisibility

Are suddenly, irrevocably forced into view.

The meadows are wreathed with their work-

Fine-spun, delicately interwoven lines

Intersecting, guiding to the heart

Of the spider’s lair.

The spin of words is often more clumsy

But that heart sits at the center

Waiting to grasp the tangled visitors

And taste the audience’s appreciation.

IMG_0184All that is spun guides into the maw of the builder

I have a deep appreciation for spinners, delicate and otherwise.

For more metaphorical webs, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.


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