We open Spiderloo, our eight cornered hut

early each October, before the first snow falls

our autumn days are woven into the mountainside

our nights we spend in weaving silken adhesive spells

to the light as it drifts from our ashram the moths

come seeking with furry burdens of guilt

they come blundering into our kindness

and we wrap them in finest spun silk

we’re always kind to our victims seeking the source of light

so we winter in Spiderloo, enriched by our acolytes.

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