The spider’s touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
~Alexander Pope
There he goes, in his long russet surtout, sweeping down yonder gravel-walk, beneath the trees, like a yellow leaf in autumn wafted along by a fitful gust of wind.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(a golden orb weaver spider hides within its home / Troup Co, Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)
Wandering, Seeing, Discovering. . .
A heavily wooded path leads nowhere in particular
Hickory nuts fall, bouncing off leaf and limb as gravity works its magic
A flash of movement
the rustling of leaves
a single deer darts across the path, vanishing before being seen
Brilliant sunlight dances magically on invisible suspended threads
Stretching ornately from one limb to another
Delicate and seemingly fragile–concentric with deadly appeal
Dressed in Autumn’s finest shades
yellow, orange, magenta
she wears a dazzling display offset by the leaves she calls home
Hidden from sight, eschewing direct observation
She waits and watches
Has someone come knocking?
cookiecrumbstoliveby 