long brown path

Spider season.
A few days ago I got in my car and was surprised to see an enormous spider web just inside the passenger window. There was no spider in the web. The windows had not been open. I left it undisturbed - it was really beautiful. But it seemed odd; so much effort for such limitied prey.
Yesterday the spider web was gone. Not a trace of silk left.
(??)

I like spiders. (Apologies to sister, who will not appreciate this blog.) I can handle them being around me. I don't mind them being on me if they are small and innocuous. But the tougher-looking ones can spook me pretty good, in a way that makes me laugh. Why do they have that effect on humans? Now and again I pick something up off the floor and a big thick-legged critter will come shooting out and I'll shout "whooaoaaahhooo" and hop around involuntarily for a second. Pure knee-jerk reaction. Same with big flying buzzing things. But once the reflex adrenaline has ebbed, I can cope no problem. Factoid: Elephants are afraid of mice for real. They've done studies; it's no myth.
Another factoid: spiders do not bite people in bed at night. People love to blame weird bites on spiders, but spiders eat bugs, not people.

(Thanks to zigotica and gatussobeto from flickr for pics.)

I have written 15 letters now, and that exhausts my list for the time being. So many of the people who have really influenced me are dead - looooong dead. I'll finish the last 3 envelopes and then I'll have to start on my next project, which is to get myself acquainted with this *%@^$*!& software for recording into my laptop. I've gotta get with the 21st century, friends. It's time. Too much reliance on other people for tech help.

And to balance the modernity: Will start new poem. I've got 3 Rilke, 4 Cummings, 3 Wordsword & 3 Keats memorized now. Want something really long - an epic challenge. I've got an addiction on my hands. I think I'll tackle Whitman's "Song of the Open Road." Thanks, SB, for putting me on to Walt.

This is Part I of XVII:

AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever
I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)

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