Silken Scars

I stare at the spiderwebs dancing in the wind although they send shivers down my spine. The wings in the silk allow it soar to and fro through the air, gathering the sunlight that shines down upon it. Golden flecks of light catch in the intricate design. Silk goes every which way in confusing lines, catching the water, creating a dewy patchwork of droplets. The spider remains unbothered, differentiating between water and prey. The outstanding work of art differs greatly from the plastic decorations on the cupcakes, but I prefer those over anything nature has to offer, for the stationary spider offers no venom to course through my veins; it rests on my hand over the faded scar of my unfortunate battle with an eight-legged enemy (in which I did not emerge the victor), but with no malice.