By tricks of rain and light the garden fills with spidery webs.
Sinuously they cling to the bay tree, the curling willow,
the leaning olive with its bluish leaves and, best of all, in mid-air
between trampoline and derelict swing seat.
The web hangs before a dark window and wafts in the wind.
Lord gosh, no fly would stand a chance in this sticky place.