Crab-like Orb Weaver
amywink October 15th, 2007
In the metropolis of my garden,
rectangular, black-spiked spiders
set their summer homes across
the human byways and canine routes.
Small and growing fast to
half-penny size, these
marvelous architects span
feet, yards, the comparable
length of miles, with
banded strands,
a construction compromise,
warning signs for the birds,
like their own bright bodies
of white, orange, or red.
I try to be a good neighbor,
cautiously walking my regular
and trampled paths, through
large openings between tree and shrub,
but the one occasional distraction,
or perhaps, misguidedly ambitious spider,
and I blunder into their guy wires,
destroying their day’s creation.
Tangled in wisps, and
suppressing the evolutionary
adrenal panic of capture,
I move again, with apologies,
and watch the marvel rebuild,
without deference to this
most reckless and
gargantuan oddity.