I only meant to admire her
as I stepped
closer to her sinewy, shining home
when snap!
a strand breaks and
from out of me flies-
I am sorry!
stepping closer
now
to watch her
meal interrupted, she
moves quickly
to the unraveling place
it could have been the rain,
the wind,
a passing deer
to cause the strand to break and I
think, how often
this must happen
What kind of determination is this?
I watch in wonder
at
She who weaves, and
reweaves, again
her home,
her sustenance,
her web
without a complaint, or even
great pause
She returns to
mending and spinning,
over and again.
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