Lessons from Spider

[summer_jackel]

There is an African baboon spider in a box on my bedroom dresser.
Her kind is said to be ferocious, fast and venomous of bite;
I have found her to be shy.
Tucked away in a complex house of silk beneath a piece of bark
she lives her quiet life attracting as little attention
as she possibly can. Even her crickets
disappear quietly.

Quietly she molted in the great-room of her spider house
where it was safest; I watched with interest as she moved her shed,
finally tacking it to the ceiling, out of her way, a chandelier with too many legs.
It was with greatest trepidation and procrastination that
I finally removed it this morning. Moved her bark as gently as I could
Tore open her silken home, breathless,
braced for fangs.

The silk boiled with what looked like menace, then stilled
into a small orange spider, splendidly bright
all of her legs pulled as tightly over her body as she could,
pressed miserably into her smallest room. I cleaned the box
as quickly as I could, admired her, and apologized.
How tender they are, the fierce and toothy wonders of the world.
How vulnerable.