To the Spigot, To the Spider
At sunset one summer evening I stepped outside to enjoy
the summer evening’s sunset and water the garden plants that were
dying in the draught. So I made my way towards the hose spigot at the
back of the house, and as I marveled at
the purple sunset
a dark writhing Figure appeared before my eyes, eclipsing the sun
and stopping me dead in my tracks.
It was not a dragon. It was not a Ringwraith. It was a Spider, a huge Spider,
busily at work crafting an enormous web two yards across, spanning the forest to
the bushes,
His labor diligent and instinctual like that of a master craftsman.
There I stood, marveling at Its pained yet natural movements, wondering when
some bird or wasp would descend upon the Thing
and rip out the Ugliness from the otherwise
perfect scene. But when I shifted my point of view
and the Spider no longer tarnished the backdrop of the sunset
I noticed It disappeared into the shadows around It
and would have been invisible to all but the
sharpest of eagle eyes. And as I blustered through an invisible strand of the
webbing,
exciting the Demon even further, I knew
that the Thing must go. But how?
I knew how. I would give to It the same thing that I meant to give the garden
plants,
for no terrestrial creature can long withstand the force of water.
So I unscrewed the spigot, marched around the other side of the house to grab
the hose,
and walked back to the spot where I spotted the Spider.
But in my absence the Spider, too, had taken Its leave
and I wondered if Nature was not made for men
to marvel at, or if in those moments
Nature does but laugh at us.
Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007
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