Swinging

I love to sit out on the porch swing. Swaying ever so gently, looking down over the yard to the pastures across the road. Very little traffic passes by--an occasional pickup truck, most likely. Otherwise, a perfect, peaceful respite from our hectic lives.

A tiny spider swings with me--her web perfectly placed between the chains suspending us. She is the size of the head of a pin--yes, the itsy, bitsy spider. Her orb web is enormous, relative to her size. The silken lines, so delicate, yet strong.



I have seen her here, mending, each morning, the night's snags.
Then resting...waiting.
And, of course, swinging.