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by Alison Quinn, 2023

Never have the spider webs

sung to me this sweetly,

woven all the day and night

as cacophony surrounds them.


As if they perspire, toxic beads evaporate

and small silences are cleaned away,

then dry and quiet notes begin,

almost mistaken for a swish of breeze.


But the web spiders hear melodies,

tunes of their labors well woven,

strong when percussive beings pass,

laced beautiful in the feasting phrases.


Spider eggs are humming.