Sir spider suspended,

still

but for the invisible

jarring of his aerial

abode.

Does it frighten him

to be held by

strength he cannot see,

to scuttle across the

sky, limb to leaf

knowing the opposite

anchored

end could detach in a blink?

Still he spins in space,

hovers across my path

while I dodge and duck

and pray, Dear God to have 

                         faith of a spider.

 

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