I am out on the deck when I find her, hanging by a thread of her own making.
She swings from a long silver strand attached to the eaves, the tender breeze pushing her left, then right. Eight legs outstretched, she is no bigger than a lentil bean, and the sunshine makes her body glow, bright with orange and yellow. Where are you going, I wonder, with ten feet of space between you and the ground?
Curious, I sit down, leaned on the railing, and watch. (more…)
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 