None shall know

of the zephyr’s passage

or the secret story

its passing foretells,

it drifts through ancient rafters

rustling webs among the eaves

awakening a lazy brown spider

at the center of her tattered web,

legs flexing

fluid spinning

she dances in preparation

for the coming generation.

This homespun globe spirals

into the sun

with a lamb upon a spit

once tender flesh crackles

above glowing embers,

while the hungry sit and watch

their tired tongues flickering

in the desert sun

their stretched bodies slither and writhe

sliding over crystalline sand

as they flee the unforgiving.

Yet that glowing global ember

grows even larger

until it slowly settles in the sea

orange light spilling

drifting through the rafters

through cracks in the walls,

and the brown spider

hunger now abated

curling her legs beneath her

patiently awaits the next zephyr.