Outside my kitchen window, an orbed weaver built a web bigger than a dinner plate at an angle to the house which made it invisible indoors, and to the careless gnat, invisible outdoors as well.
Late afternoon sunlight glinted off its silvery strands as if to beckon an unwitting dinner guest to his final resting place. Tiny bodies clung to its skimpy ropes, but there was room for more.
I felt sorry for the helpless insects, even though I knew the spider deserved to eat. Why did the natural world have to be so harsh?
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