In the corner.
She lurks.
She hides.
She shirks.
She scuttles.
She spins long, long,
tendrils of silken thread.
Ample amounts of yarn
to catch any unsuspecting
flies who hover too close.
Spiky feet take turns to
test air currents.
Suddenly she parachutes
herself into the air
and elegantly descends
along an invisible line.
Some people are scared.
I am not.
I escort the spider outside because
I spied her.
