I saw you in the outhouse, hid beneath a bowl

Although you made me jump some, I chose not to scream or howl

 

For I will never harm you, you’re safe here in my home

In fact, you are most welcome, to tarry in that dome

 

You were noticed in the little shed, acting frightened as a mouse

Peace be yours arachnid, I salute you in this house

 

Your tanglements of thread fine, hold beads of dew that dance

In springtime’s verdant splendour, they embellish and entrance

 

At times I think to touch them, with a gentle finger tap

But the whispers in my earshot warn not to dare do that

~•~

 

© 2024. Mrs WH

 

For The Araneae