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| Silk Weaver Weaving webs of mystery as the cooling shadows fell. Laced among the pines the builders of the nets. Morning brings a brand new day with new ones readied. Dew drops like diamonds gleaming, natures gemstone sets. Warily waiting for the touch as another takes the trap. Rushing along the threaded trail she engulfs it in her loom. Spinning a luncheon fabric for when the food is scarce. The tables set and the coarse laid out in her dining room. When food is plenty she�s had her fill she�ll wrap it for later. She�ll make a silk strand cotton ball to store in her larder. Spinning, weaving, legs in rhythm all in unison. Filling up her cupboard for when times get much harder. Dangling on her line of silk she repairs a broken link. The ecosystems pest control and a thing of beauty. This is not just her home but also grocery shopping. OOPS, the trap is sprung, she returns to duty. The masked Writer <o.o> � 2002 T Lovett |
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