The dew is slowly fading as the sun heats the crisp morning air. Still, enough remains to betray the spider’s silken lines. Unperturbed she sits in the center waiting. I stand watching her knowing the master will outlast me. My mind has already left the center.
My body follows. First, my eyes look up to see the rock doves choreograph their flight patterns. In unison, they end their morning maneuvers and rest on a wire. Gossiping it seems until the bully seagull sweeps them into a flurry of synchronized movements to another wire.
My body follows its own bully itch to move to the next thing. There is always a next thing. I bow to the master. Maybe one day I will know what it is to wait without waiting.