Time to Spider

it’s time to spider
to be the shuttle
in the weaving
to attend
to any splits
following lines
making sure
all is clear
and level
repairing breaks
keeping it intact

then the waiting
level-headed
patient
no rushing about

thinking of flying
releasing a long strand
and catching the wind
but too old
for that now
too settled

trying to find
the golden mean
every day

not listening
(for i have
no ears)
but feeling
the breeze
on my body

waiting for the echo
of struggle
in the lines

then i go
inject the venom
pulverize the insides
of my prey
for me to live
something must die

///

This poem was written in response to Wordle 140 at The Sunday Whirl.