A web shivers in the air
tethered to a thread
between my Adirondack chairs,
a spider at its head.
The spider hovers silent there—
assassin in the shade—
until the time I need a chair
and ruin what it’s made.
We never know what may come
to claim our foundations:
a hurricane of monster strength
defies imagination,
a spark turned fire storm
spawns a desecration,
a bomb never meant to be
destroys a generation.
And time, a relentless sea
from which we try to hide
will find us—you and me—
and trap us in its tide.
But soon enough the spider creeps,
empowered now beyond
a frightened knot of legs and feet
to fix what was undone.
