Spiders are fine by me as
long as they mind their business
while I am minding mine.
But sometimes,
maybe about two or three times a year,
I find a spider minding her business where
I am minding mine.
If I feel threatened and if help is nearby,
I yell for assistance, deferring responsibility for
the spider’s life to the whims of my assister.
Other times I choose to ignore the spider,
counting on the fact that she will
return my good favor by ignoring me the
remainder of her spider days.
But then there are days like today when
I employ a now decades-old skill first discovered after my
oldest child’s birth.
I transform into a ferocious warrior armed with
whatever I can grab.
I move quickly, before I lose will, motivated by
one powerful,
accusation:
Don’t harm my children.
Then, staring at what might remain, I attempt to avoid
this disquieting
consideration:
Was she thinking the same?
© Joy M. Newcom, June 27, 2012
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