Leaving A Summer Cottage

The work required, done. At risk of being torn to pieces. Wind. Rain. Humans. In this crumbling cottage, a summer house that welcomes us every year, that holds us during transitions. 

When we leave the year-rounders move in: little spiders

spinning webs and bundling silk, 

nesting 

settling into a dusty quiet. 

Days of sleeping weaving resting knitting mending making building 

a future that works through them 

memories of herself scattered on the web

I wonder what a spider print looks like.