Spider

 There’s a spider out my window
Spinning on her thread
She dangles high above the ground
And flies with every gust of wind.
Adrift, alone, not in control,
An acrobat in a storm.
The only thing that holds her up
Is the thread she spun herself;
So small it is almost invisible.

She dangles, turning to and fro
And flying in the wind
She does her little spider thing
And spins a bit more web
She trusts the threads she spun herself
And doesn’t care at all.

 About this poem

This poem was first published on my creative website in 2019. I was living in Juneau, Alaska and had just started climbing at the local gym.