After a hot day yesterday, there was a strong breeze most of the evening. This morning I noticed a tiny spider at the center of its web, suspended between two dahlias about eight feet apart. The sunlight had just illuminated the brave explorer, making it glow. I thought about the instant it had let go and allowed itself to be carried by the wind across the wide chasm, and wondered what it must have felt like. During its lifetime it may take many such rides. But here it was, so young; maybe this was its first. I had meant to walk through the area, but changed my mind, though it would have done it no harm. I will check on it again later to see how long it stays.
From there I went to see the apricot tree, and was surprised to find an apricot on the ground. I picked it up. It was fully ripe and had fallen of its own sweet will. I opened it. It was full of juice, and tasted so good that if I had died that moment it would have been a perfect, joyous end. This is the first fruit ever to ripen on our little tree. And I wonder how it felt, between the branch and the ground. Imagine doing something just once in your life, yet doing it so well.
July 16, 2020
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Apricots, Death, Diaries, Faith, Journals, Joy, Morning, Tiny Spiders