MAY: Poetry: Spider’s Sonnet

I want to shift my shape and stalk

across a jeweled dew-dropped web

spinning a spiral tunnel as I walk

all corners anchored firm to fight the ebb

and push of errant breeze or stormy blow

snug against all tricks Fate might deliver.

When it’s finished I will back on tip-toe

down my chute, stop to sever silken thread

curb my hunger patiently, crouch in a

waiting trance, anticipating nothing.

I rely on heaven-sent sweet manna.

Some hasty flighty creature on the wing

will bumble in my net and stick there fast

to offer me refreshment and repast.