Impossible throughlines
As we know,
it is absolutely impossible
to see a spider's thread
with a naked eye
from 40ft.
(Now, when I say 40ft, don't quote me on it.
I didn't use a tape measure. It might have been 38ft.
Still, impossible.)
But I did.
It was one autumn morning
from the comfort of my chair,
through the window,
across the garden,
beyond the lawn,
into the borders
above the bushes,
nearly onto the pavement,
— there.
A golden thread.
(Yes, of course — the sun.)
The same is true of insects, sometimes, by the way — caught in the spotlight— they like the warmth, they dance.
Ahh, there — 's another thread as I look now.
It's bouncing a little in the wind.
Spinning sometimes.
Like a fishing line.
Catching my eye.
Once, you know, I was walking through a forest and saw an autumn leaf
caught
in
mid
air —
hanging
turning
not swinging though, interestingly.
Impossibly.
I couldn't see how.
Seven feet off the ground
— give or take.
Another — as you will have guessed. There's a pattern here…
But this one was coming all the way from the highest tree tops,
I'm guessing 20, 30 — Oh, I don't know. How would I know?!
But high.
And not just that.
Anchored.
Somehow.
Only twigs and rotting leaves underfoot, but
no other explaination for the lack of lateral movement.
Wow.
I videoed it — no, no.
I won't show you. Just hold the thought yourself.
And — forget the gentle beauty; the seasonal nature interest, no.
This —
was about
Catching a thread,
in general.
Spotting a throughline, because —
leaves don't float do they? Not in one place like that. That's impossible.
But when you see the thread, then yes. They obviously can.
They must.
No question.
I have evidence.
Spinning there, turning, invisibly lifted.
And — I'm sorry —
that says it all as far as I'm concerned.
How futile are our best guesses about what's true, or even possible.
How contingent on forgetting the sun.
And the spiders…
