The Spider

by evergreenovella

It starts with one straight shining
line across my vision.
Thread perforated by sunlight connects
the new growth conifers in the front yard:
It’s amazing that something so beautiful and delicate
comes from the bosom of the tiny beast that springs fear in my anti-allergy reflex. (If there is such a thing)

Goes to show what I know of beauty.
Maybe that’s what He meant by “the first will be last.”
The way we see things now (except for a few instances of poetic justice fighting allergies on the patio), will forever be changed in the end.

The spider may never become the butterfly, but perhaps on that day we will see them as equals in the fullness of their intended glories:
A morning dew tight-rope walker of mountain white pines.

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