It's spider season

Called out of the woodwork and into the morning sun

No pig to vamp for, or Aesopian script to follow

Just cast my silk into the wind and wait

Swing, weave this orb, this grid spiraling out beyond my sense of space

Anchored to a structure I cannot reckon

Settle into the center, grounded in midair, suspended but ready to strike

Hungry, but not restless and bristly like a furred beast. The meal is on the way.

I did my piece, and I will know when the next step comes.

It comes as a vibration and ends with liquefaction.

So send to me those biters and stinkers and stingers and uglies

They find their final home here

For they had no place amongst the many giant feet to begin with

Scurrying and shouting in a silent buzz,

"There's more of us than you, and we were here first. Mind yourself, please."

Tell it to my deafened ears. My web traps all.

Your secrets and desires, your enemies and hexes, and the tiny delicate loves

It's all nourishing to me. So join me on this perfect woven silk orb some time.

We can just be still, losing nothing but knowing soon