I saw two spiderwebs above the brook.
Sitting on a stone, feet in icy water,
I might have been anticipating what
I didn't know. Late light
slanted through the pines on the far bank.

Attached to adjacent branches,
angled a bit away from one another,
they were suspended over the brown and white rush and bubble,
trembling just perceptibly, complete,
each with a tiny spider at its heart.

Would they still be intact the following day?
I meant to go back to see.
But life nudged me
away from the quiet place where I could look
at two spiderwebs above the brook.