silk

The glisten of light flutters back and forth on it: moving, swaying with the subtle breeze. Its purpose is to catch whatever might fly by. It expands five feet wide and six feet tall protruding in all directions it can find a place to attach. It hides than reappears but never reveals its entire identity, it's too smart for that. It connects to the branch of a young tree, to a potted plant, then crosses diagonally to the porch beam holding lattice above. The more I look around me, the more these silk strands overtake my view. Near and far they wave back and forth, wooing in, trapping, entangling, enticing, tricking, and sticking. The sunbeams slide back and forth as if it's found its very own jungle gym. Birds laugh at their inferior flying friends knowing they are free from the trap these spun strands create. What is death to the trapped brings life to the builder.