Spider Song

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Spider Song
Overnight, four late summer
spiders have built webs
in our garden. The slight wind
and sun sway and illuminate
the strands. The cocoons
of food are illuminated, too.
In any garden, death and life
are intertwined. Curious, I
lean close and closer to one
web. Does the spider even
know that I’m here? If so
then how am I defined
in a spider’s mind? Who
knows? I don’t. How long
will these webs last? I don’t
know the answer to that
question, either. But I do
know that some spiders eat
their webs to build back
the proteins in their bodies
so they can build more
webs. Spiders recycle!
Ah, lovely arachnids,
thank you for making
this morning a little
better. But, now, I must
say goodbye to our
garden’s spiders. I have
errands to run in this
big city. As I walk to
my car, parked next
to the hedge, I wave
my arms to knock down
any webs that might
be waiting to panic me.
Ain’t it hilarious how we
slap and slap our bodies
and roughly swipe our hair
when we walk through
a web? No civilians remain
calm when a web strand
brushes across our faces.
Ah, we humans are such
fools and so very cruel.
This morning, I read news
about that stabbing—you
know which one—where
the kid with the knife
and the kid who died are
both being dehumanized
by the other’s allies. Is there
a more dangerous person
than an ally? Ah, your allies
will forgive you anything
while never forgiving any
sin committed by anybody
whom they call an enemy.
Spiders don’t make moral
arguments to justify their
viciousness but we humans
have written many billions
of words to defend our guns,
knives, and fists. Ah, we are
complicated monsters.
And, look at me, I am
the monster who believes
that spiders are beautiful.
And, yet, I’m still afraid
of them. This primal fear
is nothing new. Humans
are beautiful, too, but I remain
afraid of me and you and you.