We connect everything
With silver threads.

We are the intelligence
amongst dusty weeds.

We teach the horticulture
of the uncultivated ones.

We find a scraggly patch
of dirt parched and filled

With sticks and stones.
We grandmother spiders

Speak silently and bend
in oddly woven splendor.

Here we would say
is the way, See here

We have connected each
space between the noble

Oak and the invasive broom.
In this air, see us quivering,

Shivering over silky thread,
designing weird exquisite

Patterns. You can
listen as we connect single

Lines then bend and swirl
in the hot breeze of mid-

Summer. Weavings speak
only to the moment never

To sterile eternity. Ours is
the language of silence

Of motion. Sparkling
in the sun, unseeable

Unless you squint and
shield your burning eyes

To behold the radiance
of light. We wobble on

Such delicate webs. No
two alike. Just step back

So you can feel us move,
you can hear the shining

Elegance we bear.
It happens anywhere

At first you will not see
us in your scope. We

Speak only when you listen
through a sidelong glance.

We move in each moment
Making not one distinction

Between unfolding forms
of life, finding a space—

Two beings to connect.
Today we sway in the

Smoky breeze, bending
slightly under an errant

Piece of ash, weaving
to sustain ourselves

But first our offspring.
Cradling filaments

Like prayers over
the pulsing floor of

The earth. Can you feel
them there? Brown leaves,

Thorny vines, new sprouts
tumbling over broken branches.

Our speech is silence yet
you can listen to our dance.

It tells you how to throw
the lines of silky sorrow

From your heart to that
of another. We are subject

To the wind, to humans or
to others walking through

And knocking us over. Yet
we come back. We are your

Grandmothers, spiders in
the act of endless creation.

You can too. You can too.

Hear us as we spin our
wisdom. It is only this —

Be devoted to all life.
Create together through

The beauty of connection.
It will feed you in these

Terror filled times. Be
the walk on the forest floor.

Be the flight on the wind.
Be the sway in the web.

Rejoice. Become intimate,
Complex. Restore multiplicity.