Category: Haibun

Garden Spider

~ Judith C Evans ~ 1 Comment
Image by Ray Shrewsberry • *** from Pixabay


She is no ordinary spider. At least not to me. Argiope aurantia is her name, and she dazzles in the morning sun next to our front step. Now and then she repairs her zigzagging web, tugging and testing the strands, making adjustments where needed. But mostly she waits. Quiet, brilliantly beautiful, hard-working, yellow and black lady. She conquers my terror of spiders and draws me into a world where two-leggeds are not as clever as we think. Red and gold maple and oak leaves fall. Argiope aurantia slows down. One crisp morning she is gone. Disappeared. No upside-down body with legs in the air. Just gone. Underground? Eaten by another predator? My grief catches me off guard. I thank her for enlarging my world.

tattered spider web

abandoned as days shorten:

I’ll tell your story.

Seeing Sunlight

~ Judith C Evans ~ 2 Comments

I look up from where our Shih Tzu and I sit under the black walnut tree. Warm evening breezes carry honeysuckle perfume. Multi-hued sunlight filters through and plays among hostas and honeysuckle leaves, setting them rustling and shimmering. Patio door slides open across the yard. “What are you thinking about?” you ask, smiling, in your robe. Thank you for asking. Thank you for seeing. Our dog and I stand up and walk into the house, as I chatter on about how evening sunlight has intoxicated me since childhood. “Help me open the shutters again,” you say. A house finch, perched on the plum tree outside our window, warbles in agreement.

previous words fall

and dissolve into nothing:

sunlight bathes our world.