Archive
05/19/10 - (4)
Spider Time
The familiar drone of recently awakened lawn mowers Fills the village air, As do molecules of yellow-green pine pollen, Clots of which mottle the water close to the shore, As though laying siege to this tiny enclave. An equally ubiquitous sign of these restless times Is the furiously working, constantly hunting spiders, Industriously occupying every available outdoor space, As well as ceiling corners, cabinets, windows, With their magnificently glistening sky-bridge webs, Hoping to catch, in their complex silken traps, Prey that will keep their energy spinning, weaving, Through Wisconsin's always-too-brief summer and fall. These predators, in capturing my imagination, Set it free, to capture what it can, in its poetic net.
05/19/10 - (4)
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