It's spider season. The forest is alive with tendrils of silver, and I cannot take more than a few steps without catching an unseen web. What keeps them rebuilding? Do they know that their hard work, their fragile homes, will be torn down again and again and again? Is it instinct that keeps them going? Or is it hope? Though I walk with care I still feel the tug of some invisible rope. They and their webs gather in my ears, but they never seem to bite. Perhaps they sense my shakes, my fears? that I empathize with their forever plight? Whatever it is, I try to be kind, as I know I would want if I were them. As I duck under another a part of me still wonders... if I will one day be a spider again.
♫ Fortekit likes spiders.
