Golden-orb weaver

I often go back to the poetry of Judith Wright, whose appreciation of nature is deep, sympathetic but not sentimental. Her ability to see beyond the apparent opposites of this world into the realm of Mystery still holds for me a deep attraction. I wrote the following poem after a summer spent observing a particularly majestic spider.

Golden-orb weaver

Within the stand of mulga trees
A net is swaying in the breeze,

And on the net a spider rides,
Crouching and waiting for what collides.

A beast that lives to hunt and kill
By guile and poise and dexterous skill,

The bees it traps, what would they give
For one more day that they should live,

Among the mulga, tussock and creek,
The scented flower to yearn and seek.

Oh traveler, stop and ease your breath
And find the shade away from sun,
Then see the place where life meets death,
Where life is lost and life is won.