"A Storm" February 3, 2005 Every strand so precariously spun, woven to perfection, she settled on a leaf tying the last few knots. "Perfect," she said.  She smiled.  A small droplet of rain ran down her glowing face.  More and more fell, soon too much and she slipped, falling, falling into a strange metallic abyss. When she awoke she could feel the warm sun on her face.  Her work, her home, it was all up there.  She'd have to crawl back. And the itsy bitsy spider crawled up the spout again.