CATHEDRALS We went out early to water our tomato tree, a ripening Park’s Whopper potted beside the yellow onions. From the stalk to the ledge there was something birthed overnight: all air shine, fine-threaded and intricate it stretched, holding court with drops of dew, gleaming in the light. Oh! I gasped, as I marveled at the spider’s web. How she must have toiled in the dead of night to produce this holy silk: so delicate, too, and yet so indestructible. Those tiny spires and vaulted ceilings patterned with her chisel, all held tight at the center and spun out hexagonal. At once, I was gazing at the Gothic turrets of Notre Dame before the fires marred her. At once, the flowers in the foreground became the spider’s stained-glass windows, and I felt the urge to kneel and kiss the ground in prayer. And I heard: Who needs the trappings of four walls or to travel to the city, when everywhere in nature there are cathedrals?
Kimberly Phinney is an educator, English professor, and photographer. She’s been published in Ekstasis, Fathom, Truly, Calla Press, The Dewdrop, and more. She is the founder of the faith community and literary journal, The Way Back to Ourselves. You can visit her on Instagram @thewayback2ourselves.