Watch Your Step

Suspended by a thin thread of spider silk, the leaf spun and danced in the late afternoon light like a crazed ballerina. It would pause for a few seconds, then race upward and to the left, fluttering and swirling madly. Then it would drop down, pause for another few seconds, then repeat the movements to the right. It took me several minutes of watching before I realized that there was only the mildest of breezes, certainly nothing that could account for this reckless and frenzied behavior. Leaves don’t think or plan or move in predictable patterns, I realized, and they certainly are not defiant. Curious, I left the deck and walked toward the back fence with the dogs trotting at my heels. When I got closer, I saw that the leaf was actually a small butterfly, stuck to the silk like glue and despite its best desperate efforts, unable to break free. Poor thing, I thought to myself, you must be exhausted and you wouldn’t make much of a meal, and with one quick gesture, I severed the strand of silk and watched the butterfly soar off in a blur of blue and gold and backlit sunshine. It was, I decided, as good as any a metaphor for life – not all traps are made of steel jaws or quicksand. Some are delicate, practically invisible and woven of silken threads. You might not even notice until you’ve stepped over the threshold and suddenly found yourself captive.

Watch where you’re going.