mesh tents

hang

cemented in forks

of a choke cherry

their prevalence a

sign of springs arrival

the morass of squirming

life inside emerges like

reporters spilling from

a courtroom

they amble

down

a

silken

gangway

in a caterpillar kind

of follow-the-leader

to search for tasty leaves,

aquiver as bird shadows

cover them

and I glibly pass by with

no sonder

(posted in response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle # 61)