I kept walking through spider webs.
Even when I tried not to,
even when I held out my hand against them,
still I would feel the sudden threads across my face,
hear the tick of breaking strands,
feel the sticky tickle in my hair.
As I’d recoil to free myself,
I’d hit another.
Yes, they were busy.
But I still got a free harvest
of sour purple-blue berries
pulled from their red stems.
I boiled them with sugar
to obtain a bright elixir
And I felt rich
and grounded,
at one with the earth
on which I have a right to walk,
on which I belong.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2013
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