Revision II - Geolycosa
Biding in the burrows dark
beneath the mouldy leaves;
the dank and dreary soil
I laid writhing,
watching the twinkling
daylights and moonlights
dancing on a string
a drifting visitor had laid.
And from the corner I saw
Thumbelina’s smiling spirit
lying in wait,
just emerging from my tepid, shining shell
retreating once more
to a soil I’d find in another burrow.
In each silken strand,
I saw a mirror of turning time
Foretelling in my eyes: a thousand more cavernous dewdrops,
clinging, quivering, to silk of mine,
held tenderly by nimble hands.
First I’d gone to tug off more old skin
longing to redress in dew;
I left it to curl where I’d stand.
Now I’d pull in the string inside the web
pricking an outstretched, limbering limb,
as a thumb on an unthimbled hand.
Where the web was snugged it turned into dust, and in vain
I tucked it to me.
An artful vision, lost to dark
wherein I’d gone and done it again.
Even so, I needn’t sight to weave it.
Should I have to spin it from the dust
and salt of the earth,
I’ve got more web.
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