A Woman's Work
It is fine silk she creates within
and spews forth again and again
to make senseless beauty in the world,
hold her children,
grasp a silent something
Her thread is fine, delicate, barely visible:
only those who search on dewy mornings
will see the glory of her creation.
She is always busy:
renewing her silk
repairing this web and that, carelessly torn
by the wind, the prey, the unexpected
the unconscious souls
She rests, waits
for all that is to come.
She does not pause
knowing the importance of the work:
preying, mending, tending, waiting,
creating a constant quiet cradle for
the young, the fragile being
the dew
Helene McGlauflin
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LOVELY images and poem. :)
ReplyDeleteBEAUTIFUL ! doesn't even begin to describe this post!! Have a great day! Rain
ReplyDeleteLove this poem...and those photos!! Truely amazing!
ReplyDelete