On a morning when mist ribboned the valley
and my steps were light,
I collected tufts of white wool from the barbs
of fences and wild roses.
When I came upon the web
of an orb spider spun between dry blades of grass,
I sat down and pulled the wool
from my pockets,
releasing strands into the light wind, floating one
and then another
into the silken house.
[This poem originally appeared in the artist book Twenty Views of Cascade Head (Crab Quill Press, 2001).]