Spider Web Magic On a Foggy Morning
It's a spider web and fog kind of morning.
The morning brought curious eyes
as the window outside showed a landscape of fog.
Little feet patter through the upper floor apartment
to stir sleeping brother from his slumber.
Excitement builds as the morning churns,
bare feet become socked
and shoes slip on.
Brother stays behind—
though sister doesn’t seem to mind.
Grabs Mom’s hand
to move the pace,
to get the momentum up and going.
Right turns are taken instead of left
as each step give energy to the new morning trip.
As if something new could be old as time
as we stroll through the fog filled city blocks.
Interactions seem to come our way—
each more positive then the next.
Smiles give back to others
when they hear this energy senses rather than hears—
electronic ears left in the rush.
Barista asks,
“How do you sign you’re welcome?”
A tuck of the hand towards the belly button,
a bow of the head while truly saying:
“You’re welcome.”
Some prompting to encourage the engagement
as her excitement settles
to her now warming hands.
Hot cocoa sipped through a straw—
how can one cup give so much energy?
Smiles exchanged,
one more cup transfer from hand to hand—
learning patience comes with time.
Time for each transaction
to be heard
and completed to it real meaning.
Time ticks on
as morning surprises take foot delivery
around a block familiar to the senses.
Along the way our own adventures await us,
as water dewed spider webs
hold mystery in grassy terrains.
As we pause in contemplation
of what lives in the burrows
underneath the cotton covered habitat.
Another web is located half a block away,
our feet cross the long way
as we push the crosswalk buttons.
Hands too full to wave a thanks—
I must nod my thanks towards them in appreciation.
More spider webs are found in bushes
where neighbors speak on their spider beliefs.
“Speak to a spider—some creatures listen, ya know,” this man says.
I think he was expecting a skeptic in me,
but this morning was made for magic, you see.
“Tell the spider’s where the webs can go,
here along the windows corner,
or to the side so I can walk on through
my human made thresholds undisturbed.”
The walk commences as the fog holds on,
as my daughter’s hand held tightly in my own.
Spider webs are seen above on city street signpost,
their shapes seen in shimmering details for all to see.
Max trains ding through the fogs cloaking wall—
lights scatter through the clouded air.
Home is nearing as the fog clings on,
running feet now take hold
as hurrying off seems more important than strolling along.
I keep my pace to not disturb the surprise
as I trust in the process
and watch as her feet retrace her steps back inside.
Brother voices his reaction
as he takes his in satisfaction.
The morning just begun,
and the day left to unravel
as the fog lifts back into the upper atmosphere.
Grey skies hold much possibility
in a land rich in opportunity—
as Oregon is made for the changing season.
Each one a representation of the earthly experience—
from springtime through summer,
now as fall beckons near,
winter is promised
just as the air now speaks
in autumn tidings.
But why think of all that
when fall whispers us into its reigning season.
As Earth encourages us to look around on all levels
even as the world is a fog.
There is wonder in the fog
if walked through it.
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Last year there was a hole in the ground near my home, with a web all around. It was early in the morning, and I had my glasses on, so when I bent down to peer into the hole, the sun reflected off the lenses and down into the hole. Four copper-colored eyes peered back. It was almost like we knew each other.