a spider’s a cipher
The descent towards Samhain and the new year is one of my favorite times of year; the weather cools off, the rain returns, Trader Joe’s has everything pumpkin, and things get quiet on the personal front. I’ve recovered from the summer enough to get some writing done (including being nearly done with an edit pass on 7Red! The book is almost ready to be sent out at the beginning of next year), and I’ve recently gotten the news that a story of mine will be in an anthology that will be announced at some point soon.
Of course, all of this is just in time for the dayjob to kick into high gear, and Clarion West is also busy as we finish a big project that will really help us manage our data going forward and get ready to open applications for next year. (Interested in applying? We have a new article that outlines the when, why, and how of applying to Clarion West.)
I’m still figuring out what my big writing project is going to be next year. I’d like to draft a few new short stories this winter, and then start on a new book in January, but I haven’t decided what I’m going to write. The Phoenix Crown is calling me, of course, and it’s on the list, but I’m also feeling the itch to write something new.
Also, I apparently wrote a new poem. I started out as a writer in poetry, because I was too ill to write anything longer, and I still return to it on occasion.
spider season, part two
The spider tends her web at dawn;
under the eaves, spinnerets and legs
busy just as I am getting dressed,
getting ready to go about my mammal business.
(a spider’s a cipher
that is: empty)
She repairs what is broken in the dim;
breezes shaking her, she plucks and plucks
preparing for the day when clouds
(low as they are)
catch their bellies on the spiky parapets
of shadowed trees, mountains washed by rain.
She does not understand mountains,
but she speaks the languages of chill
and fading light.
(A spider’s a cipher
that is: code)
I am a half-seen mammal to her
in the dawning, leaving the lights
turned off, quiet as I slip from room to room
and she and her filaments under the eaves
waiting, waiting, waiting.
October 26, 2015
(pictures taken in Port Angeles in September.)
