The Web

Submitted by Ronald E. Shields

This morning where beam meets post on the porch
a barn spider has spun her concentric polygons,
a trap wired with a warning system I test with my finger.
The spider scrambles from her den in anticipation of a feast of fly,
this orb weaver with the bright yellow rune no one can decipher.

Woodpeckers begin appearing this time of year,
busy drilling as leaves drop from trees undressing
in the soft yellow glare of the low afternoon sun.

Soon the hummingbirds will begin the journey south to Mexico,
pollinating their way across the Sonoran Desert.

Already v’s of geese are appearing beneath curdling clouds.
Some of the garden birds will follow,
though many will winter over in pines and evergreen shrubs.

Change vibrates constantly along the strands in this web of existence.
Still, there can be a moment when realization takes hold,
clears the fog in our eyes and we become aware of our dependence
on this vast, intricate fabric.

I watch the barn spider and think how alike we are in our ways –
anticipating, waiting on the threads so necessary to our livelihood.
And so we are connected in this web to all our kin,
alive to the chemical messages, in their cryptic bonds
passed in whispers through our blood.

Photo Credit: Vera Cauwenberghs – Kunstschilder toile d’araignée

For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.