from ekphrasis x 11, Laura Pendell:

There is a layer we miss.

Invisible silver web

of moon spiders threading the air.

From her to you to me to him.

And again.

One drops what another picks up.

Pencil. Fire. Jade.

At night things quiet.  Eyes widen.

Loneliness is imagined.

Each finger tip sings gossamer filaments.

The net of existence.  We are all.