The Weavers
R
Rose Marie Juan-austin
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She unceasingly weaves
Her hopes and dreams
From fibers and threads
In beautiful hues and lines
As she weaves like the wind
The threads and fibers
Are her bread and butter
And all who depend on her.
It produces silk from itself
A thread as strong as steel
As it ornately weaves its web
It secured a safety line
Of its own
And traps and wraps
Its prey to survive.
It collects bits and pieces
Of myriad dried things
From leaves of grasses
To leaves and bark of trees
And weaves them
With precision
As safety nest
Of its hatchlings.
As the weavers
Draw their strings
For another day
Each of them
Has her own preference
On how to survive.
Copyright 2017, Rose Marie Juan-Austin, All Rights Reserved
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