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