a poem for today

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
                                                                                    

~*          ~*        ~*

"It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer."   E. B. White

Helene is my friend.