The spider seemed to levitate. It spun
against the wind, on thread too thin to see,
while up above, the branches of the tree
wrapped dessicated fingers round the sun.
It pivoted, its jointed legs all splayed,
and beckoned with its jagged, thorny feet.
The boy inched ever closer, while the heat
came to his face and neck. He was afraid.
And then, before the shadows in the yard
could lengthen any more, and rob his soul
of this childhood resolve, he took his stick
and struck the air above the creature, hard.
It tumbled to the gnarled roots like a brick.
He ground it with his heel, his eyes like coal.