Spider World
Dust motes float in the still air
Of a dimly let attic.
Shadows stay fixed
In the mausoleum-like stillness,
Where eight-legged tiny creatures remain
Silent witnesses to time passing.
The quiet life within
Affords timeless homes of webs
Delicately spun in corners with patient care.
Such intricate homes these,
Spiders of “Welcome Mat” savy
Maintain each strand as a story
A connection binding the past to the now.
Deep in the recesses of the storage
Rests old trunks and boxes,
Remnant saves of years gone by,
Their secrets kept safe by tireless sentries.
Bluebottle reconnaissance flights
Use their short lives to seek out
The mouse or other rodent death
Their radar has picked up.
Circling the webbed danger zones,
these fearless dive-bombers
make quick research
and return to safer pockets of the attic’s open air
thick with memories,
innocent laughter,
tears of loss,
all the hushed echoes of lives once lived.
In this sanctuary of stillness,
Spiders move with purpose,
Their world a tapestry of silk and unsuspecting capture,
For in the attic’s embrace,
Time slows, and the outside world fades,
Leaving only the quiet hum of life,
Spun from the threads of the past.
For most of us, spiders in the attic pose a problem of learned fear, when they only want to live in their insect-style house arrest.
And spiders certainly do have the run of the attic most of the time. And, as far as I know, none of them in the house are poisonous except perhaps, the brown recluse. Forgot about him.
I like the whole concept except for the strange "bluebottle reconnaissance flights?" That escaped my imagination. Perhaps their vision makes them see all blue with compound eyes?
God