Yesterday, I made an new friend, an older gentlemen with kind blue eyes. Upon hearing the stories of my travels and my itinerant life, he recited a poem from memory for me. It was very moving because he said, “Excuse me, I can’t say this part without crying.” I thought he was going to stop, but he just kept reciting the poem, tears flowing freely. He too, had lived an itinerant life, as an officer in the navy, and he often left those “silken threads trailing.” It was very touching, so here is the poem, by E.B. White.
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider’s web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.