Hidden deep in the undergrowth of a worn forest path
lies the remains of a spiders web.
Jewel like it glistens, ice dreams in the last light of day.
Woven with such complexity it can withstand winters furry.
The tiny spider spun a sugar palace, warp and weft, it toiled through
spring and fall.
The tight interwoven patterns hold the secret of continuance .
A spiders life cycle stretched between branches.
The web is the keeper of the keys to next springs coming.
11 comments:
Keeper of keys of next spring. Indeed. Lovely poem
Much thanks Jeeves. I am glad you liked it.
love, Melanie
There are keys to many story doors in this poem. Beautifully done, Mistress of the keys.
Thank you Yousei. I am glad that you could see into the web it's self.
love, Melanie
I like
warp and weft, it toiled through
spring and fall.
Thanks for your visit Melanie.
Indeed. I think spiders know many secrets and tell them to us, though we don't always translate well.
The spider's web is their life line to existance. Without it they do not exist. Maybe the webs that hold us together also have the same result. I enjoyed your poem.
I love the glistening descriptions of the spider's web. It seems to be a part of winter yet have its own glow. Beautiful.
I love how this holds the past present and future. Lovely piece.
You weaved this one beautifully, Malanie. The last stanza sums up much of life ...
...."A spiders life cycle stretched between branches.
The web is the keeper of the keys to next springs coming."
A very unique, but universal ending.
Hold the secret of continuance. I really like that line! Nice!
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