By the Front Door by Katherine Crawford

The spider taketh hold with her hands, and is in kings’ palaces 

Proverbs 30:28

One hanging mirror

framed in slate,


just so, as did the silvered spun filaments.


What hangs in the filigree of silk?


her prey, beetles and flies


The spinner does not see herself,

there, coiled in the mirror


as her tiny spinnerets & legs


verily dance to a warble of evening birds; mockingbirds


robins                 blackbirds.



Every verse of theirs is different.


What different tales do we say or sing? Might they all be the same?

What silk will we spin?

In the bright light of reflection, busily, legs, arms, brains, and song.