“We’re here for only a short while,” Amy said out loud, sketch pad on lap, pencil poised over blank page. “Then it’s back to the spider.”
Her breath, a frosty, cloudy haze, emitted percussively as she spoke. “But as far as I know,” she continued with added emphasis, pencil dancing across her sketch pad, “spiders don’t write poetry.”
When she was finished, she looked down at what she had drawn, then back to its source, satisfied. Above her, the sun was young, far below its apex in the sky.
“Maybe they don’t need words,” she mused. “Not like we do.”
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This is a really lovely piece of work, and very effective for its length. Great work 🙂
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Thank you for the fine comments and for reading!
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Spider musings
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Reblogged this on James Blevins.
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Perhaps their webs are their art/poetry?
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I can see that being true. 🙂
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Nicely done. Spiders create poetic webs at times.
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Thank you, David. And I would definitely agree.
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Haha, yes, James, we weave webs with our words, no matter how silken. Thanks for such an evocative piece.
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Thank you, Kelvin, for reading. 🙂
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Lovely piece, love the title!
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Thank you! 🙂
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Swoon.
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