With threaded beads of rain the spiderwebs
raise arch on vaulted arch of eyebrow studs
(say ‘garland fairy lights’ to please the mob),
the micro-metallurgist at each hub
extruding a St Andrew’s cross long-limbed
awaiting prey vibration of its net,
the planes at angles variously trimmed
and layered for a polaroid effect
of integrated air traffic control.
Their tick-plump cousins fatten in the eaves
on flies tucked into cotton cobweb folds
old gauze unravelled like a bandage sleeve,
unsightly yes but what annoys the eye
fly-proofs the house. Unless I am the fly.
1 October 2015