Tag: Nature poems

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.

Resting and Ready

~ Judith C Evans

November’s cold-hearted shadow fell over the backyard.
“Too bad,” our guests shook their heads,
Glancing up at the bare, gray branches of the towering black walnut.
“Too bad we missed the tree in the summer.”
“It must have been beautiful.”
“Now it’s just drab.”
A faint chill, hinting at approaching winter,
Sent the remaining dry, clinging leaves into a sigh.

Later that evening, after the guests went home,
I visited my tree (only the tree and I know that we belong to each other).
In July, her deep green shade had protected me
From high desert afternoons,
As I watched our Shih Tzu play.
“Look up,” said my tree in July, as she offered her sturdy branches, heavy with green walnuts,
To squirrels and sunlight.

Now, in November, I brace myself for shorter daylight hours
And wonder what my tree will do for the next several months.
“Look down,” she whispers, not bothered at all
When people say “too bad.”
“Go down deep,” she says, “go where the roots do their secret work after it snows.”

My tree shares her grandmother spirit
With those who know she is more than enough,
Even when the work is unseen.
Even in the quiescence of winter, as her roots
Lie between resting and ready.
Even as her sapwood slowly dies,
To become the heartwood core she’ll need for the journey ahead.