David de la Croes
Rain Spider
At the stump of the fig tree
where sweetness and fragrance
have long departed
a rain spider has built a nest
of autumn-dried leaves
covered with a blanket
of delicate silk.
I stand and watch
the little spiders
coming out to play
in smooth fur jackets -
first, a game of tag
and then a fencing game
with slender long legs.
Soon they will spread out
and scurry around in the hunt for food;
raising neck hairs and bring shrieks of terror
as they intimidate nervous children and wives.
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