Spidersong, Satisfied

I lay in the dark
Almost     not quite
At the end of the world

And from the tips
Of my spinnerets
The sticky silk swirled

My webs floated
Over the garden
Light on the air

And I tied them off
To branches and stone
Fences everywhere

Now every arachnid sings
Of how I captured thick flies
Bees     wasps with slim stings
Legs     thoraxes     wings
Dripping residues of Spring

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
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