Radical Acceptance

A Different Kind of Poem

There is a tree. Most of the leaves have fallen. Autumn is almost spent.

Tangled in the nearly-bare branches are the remains of an intricately-spun

spider web. Jagged holes mar the symmetry of the once-perfect design.

Gossamer filaments, so carefully interwoven, are swinging in loose disarray,

tossed about by relentless gusts.

A single strand has come almost free and hangs below the branches, twisting

and spinning in an uncaring wind.

On that tenuous tether clings a spider, trying, in vain, to climb back to the

web to repair it yet one more time.

No matter. Winter will soon be here.