i was out on my front porch reading poetry when i noticed these spiders hatching. their little diaspora was quite a race; it happened fast. in comes new admiration for those papery, white, spider-baby houses. (there must be a slightly more technical term for these, yes? …but you know what i mean.) funny how they wait and wait so quietly to hatch themselves, then one day just come out running. i’m sure there’s a lesson in there.

loosely connected, maybe, kind of… this poem by galway kinnell. it’s one of my all-time favorites; i hope you’ll love it, too:

whatever happens. whatever
what is is is what
i want. only that. but that.
xo, emily

One thought on “hatchlings.

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