Gramma’s Webs

Gently swaying in the breeze
Above the head of a sleeping child
Grandmother spider spins her web with care
To catch the dreams with crooked paths
(nightmares)
And holding them fast…
Letting only the good dreams fall through
 the opening she left in the center of her web
To the sleeping child below
Ojibwe women weave a net in a willow hoop
Much like Grandmother spider and hang them
Above the heads of their sleeping babies
A reminder that most gifts come from
Places we least expect them.
 

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