Deep in the woods
a spider casts her story
across my eyelids
invites an intricate dream
of fine woven memory
raindrops as sweet wine, and
stars come down to glisten, listen
eavesdrop into her delicate days
the tightrope balance
of patience and power
the writhe and wriggle
in her sacred dance,
even she wonders sometimes
what stories they have to tell —
the ant, the fly, the beetle —
but pays no mind
for hunger is deep
and instinctive,
she whispers,
it knows small mercy.
Photo by Phil Kallahar. Poem ©2024 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.
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