in softly swaying branches
of a giant cedar tree
a spider sits
on silken cords
suspended in a breeze
resting between bark chunks
and sharp cedar needles
quietly it waits
for a moment
and a passing insect
becomes tasty chopsuey
||Patience: that's essential for a good hunter.
||Yeah, most of what we call "life" is a essentially a matter of waiting:
only a few key moments are crucial. Everything else is an interlude.
||I'm not so sure. Perhaps everything is important in its own way.
Isn't spinning a thread is just as important as resting on a leaf?
||(shaking his head) Maybe, but all this talk of spiders makes me feel yucky.
||Yeah, I don't like the idea of being somebody else's food.
||Hey, we're all designed to be recycled.
Eventually the worms, spiders, & bacteria will feast on your corpse.