Poetry: Web of Glass

There is a spiders home
attached outside the top floor 
window of the hospital.
Its home faces south west;
view of the woods.
The dot-like body bounces
in the wind 
web too transparent 
for me to ponder upon
How many flies does it catch on the sixth floor?
Not many, not enough
Bugs that hit the glass
aiming for the hallway light
get tangled by deception
Window washer will come
reclaim that space
with a squeegee.
By then the 
eight legged creature surely
will be dead

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