He shows himself,
Sullenly,
Right on time
As dinner is served

His tiny,
Slender body
Creeps
Out of the shadows

Each of his 8 delicate legs
Step cautiously
Taking me in

He is careful
Knowing
One misstep
Could change
His fate

His web
Catches the light
Glimmering
Only for an instant

His, no – her,
Sac of babies
Strewn upon it

I stare at my dinner
And up at my guest
The gentle touch
Of my pinky
Could diminish her

But this tiny friend
Has a family
Has a home
Has a life.

Ideally her home
Would be built
Outside of mine
But a home
Nonetheless
Afterall,
All are welcome here

So the guest
Presses on
Toward my
Untouched plate

And I
am left
With a quandary