A thin premeditated rig.

The Spider's Web

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
-- E B White



Thick-a-fog this morning as the locals say. High tide on the river, the ripples barely visible from the graveyard bluff. Grass and trees, decorated and shimmering with foggy dew catch the feeble light. I came upon this tree searching out the beautiful song sparrow welcoming her day. I captured the wet web instead, beaded and strung with sparkling droplets. I'll link a photo of the sparrow's joy yesterday morning. The air today is ringing with their songs and flashing feathers, a Machiasport morning, marvelous stuff for the senses.

Song Sparrow

Sunset over the Machias River