a love letter to golden threads

Dear golden threads,

Just visible out of the corner of my eye, there hangs in the air one shining, honey-colored strand: now here, now gone. The sun must catch it just right, but there it is hovering in the breeze: a silky, nearly transparent filament.

How many times do I walk right past these almost imperceptible golden threads? Often I barge through, oblivious, as if there were something more important to see. Sometimes I almost hear them, faintly, like the echo of an angel. Once in a while, I bask fully in their illumination.

I tilt my head and there is another and another… why does a spider spin these strands and cast them off to float away? What sort of connection could she be seeking? I wonder, as I carry this golden mystery with me into the day.