Appearances
Round my kitchen window, spiders compete like Joneses — they put up fancy curtains and tassel them with soft beads wrapped in silk; they sit in their front rooms, to be admired.
Today, I notice, the one at the left has balanced a dust-thy moth on the flex of the extractor fan, like a small bird perched on a branch. Even I am impressed — what must the neighbours across the glass think? They have their answer stored: a larger moth, bottom right, too heavy to lift for now, but no doubt saved for some special display: to be a star in a spun sky, perhaps, transparent against moonlight; or to twist, and as slowly untwist, a single thread — a silent chime in the window's thin draught.
Andrew Gibbons