Torn
I tore the web of a black and yellow spider
in the brash of weeds
and down she came on her surplus of legs
each of which
touched me and really the touch wasn't much
but then the way
if a spider can she looked at me
clearly somewhere between
outraged and heartbroken made me say "I'm sorry
to have wrecked your home
your nest your larder" to which she said nothing
only for an instant
pouched on my wrist then swung herself off
on the thinnest of strings
back into the world. This pretty, this perilous world.
Mary Oliver
