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.