(26 DEC 1943 / Wyandotte MI)

The Master Weaver

She wove a silken tapestry
in the calm still of a moonlit night
spinnerets spewing slender strands -
light as air but strong as Kevlar.

A silvery armature spanned the trail
clinging to trunks and branches.
Rappelling down from its pinnacle
she set spokes on her deadly wheel.

Spiraling in from the outermost ring
she knitted her way to its center
to await the tell-tale shudder
of a fly or moth flown into her snare.

She took no note of the hiker
standing alone on the trail -
transfixed by the dew laden spiral
shimmering in the rose-glow sun.

It mattered not to the spider
that a man would find her work pleasing
and it mattered not to the man
that the web was not woven for art.

August, 2006

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Comments (11)

The irony of this is breathtaking. I often marvel at the power of beauty to transform us human beings. I doubt that any other animal has this capacity. I gaze at the sunflowers my daughter brought me last week - standing so tall in the vase before me. I am awestruck that they are totally unaware of the affect of their presence in my house. Your spider's web is woven with great literary skill. Your utilitarian explanation is superb. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
you recapture the beauty of nature here and how such magnificence is not always intended to be such but rather is intended for a practical purpose, i enjoyed it immensly
this is really an awesome write, Sir Robert! wow.thanks for sharing this great piece of yours love, Meggie
Ships passing in the night? What a beautifully woven web you have here...and the fact that the spider couldn't care less about mankind...We think we are so all important, don't we, not thinking how little the bitty ones care about us...except for staying out from under our shoes.
Your Master Weave is a Master Piece... Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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