the spider glided over her web

The spider glided over her web, her toes gracefully moving over the lines of silk that were stretching from the branches. The sun was shining on her back, dewy and drowsy from the morning wake. She was looking over her territory, wondering if anything had come in during the night. She hadn’t felt anything, but it never helped to check what might have crept in.

She looked over the moths that had already been caught, some more than others. Some wiggled against their death cocoons, others just lay still, knowing that to struggle wouldn’t make a difference. She watched, maybe a bit sad for the ones who had given over their lives to her, for her insatiable appetite.

The winds blew against her web, the dew drops raining down to the forest floor. She hid back under a leaf when she spotted a butterfly fly closely to her home. Her many eyes could only barely capture the color that radiated from the butterfly’s wings, blues and greens and grays. Her heart soared as the butterfly landed on the very edge of her silken strands, edging closer for a view of her next capture.

The butterfly’s wings were folded against one another. It looked ready to take flight, but not quite. The spider watched as the butterfly surveyed the web, the inert bodies tightly wrapped in silken strands. He inched closer to the bodies, soundless and slow. The spider crept further up her web, hidden by the leaves of the branches, poised to take aim. Such a pretty prey, she thought to herself, what a fine trophy he would make on her web, how he would attract so much more for her to feed on.

She crept alongside the butterfly, who seems in a gaze, staring at the unmoving bodies still. The sun suddenly shined down on the web, revealing her black body hidden within the branches. She felt that this was now or never, otherwise she would be spotted. She scurried across the strands, but somewhat resisting the feeling that she should strike. Light struck her many eyes, and she halted, blinded.

The butterfly felt the warmth of the rays and opened his wings. Light penetrated through the thin membrane of his wings, rainbowed colors flowing through, illuminating the silk strands of the web, reds, yellows, oranges. The spider stopped, stunned by all its colors. If she could have, she would have cried out in alarm, so many things happening at once. The butterfly, noticing the quake of the web, fluttered his wings, gathering all the sunlight he could, turning slowly towards what could have been his end.

But the spider remained where she was, staggering through colors and light. The butterfly was so beautiful, she felt, so remarkable that she just stared. Her many eyes met the butterfly’s, a sort of loss overcoming her. What a great capture this would have been, but she felt it might have been a crime to render this creature lifeless. She could not take his life, she knew that. She could not take him for herself, denying his existence to others. He was too full of essence, too full of spirit.

As he folded his wings, the spider felt something die inside, like she was being denied a look into another creature’s soul. She lowered her body to her web, bowing low to the butterfly, easing into a humble obedience. She would give herself to this creature, his beauty too great for even her to withstand.