God drifts his fingers

Through Spider nest clouds as their

Creatures scatter down.

Scurrying feet and

Panic induced webs trickle

Across tired eyes.

They capture her bleak

Skies in ominous tangles

Of sticky-steel thread.

Arachne defeats

Her gray-eyed enemy with

Her decomposed loom.

Apollo’s hands grasp

Her shoulders as his lips press

Near, parting to sing;

“What beast captivates

Those serious eyes of yours

And veils your sharp mind?”

“Why, just a thought as

To how many flips I could

Do out this window.”