The spider-speck wobbles on its precarious cord

White lines feeling their way to the edge

The air hangs still, breathes in, a crescendo of wind

rushing beneath tiny legs

carrying them off like some force of fate

A leap of fate unwanted, into the unknown

Gravity wrestles the spider-speck into its embrace

A decision on the fly, a flying decision

A line to connect two points

With mathematical precision the spider-speck weaves in midair

Landing with poise on the other side

The web is strung