Natures Way

I hate spiders but they don't half fascinate me - a classic case of morbid curiosity, but extremely rewarding.

Nature's Way

 

Dancing against darkness, enter player one:

A yo-yo, gangly daddy-long-legs skitter,

Drawn towards the flickering tube, ignited.

 

Rebounding on and off and against the pane,

Oblivious in its crazy crane-fly path,

It trampolines 'twixt wily web and window.

 

Player two: predatory, like quick-silver;

Its eight legs scuttle, engage, are soon fourteen;

No thought, pure instinct: to feed and to survive.

 

Within moments the furious battle's won,

The arachnid's speed and stealth overwhelming;

Its home's wrecked, adorned with dismembered trophies.

 

Yet still the victim lamely, gamely struggles,

Becoming integral as the rebuild starts:

Reconstruction 'round a gossamer hot-dog.

 

Eight legs must seem like thousands as the crane fly,

Helpless, senses the crafter re-weave its lair,

Crawling up, down and over its dying meal.

 

Feverish claws criss-cross, stitching and mending,

Thread loose strands, fashioning a gossamer rope,

Which wraps around the flailing, failing die-hard.

 

Outside, against the bare arc-sodium glare,

This macabre ballet floats ghoulishly mid-air;

Nature's nightmare, perpetual yet ageless.

 

Strewn across the web-suspended battleground

Spindly legs twirl on invisible strands,

Breeze bouncing the torment like a tambourine.

Finally this act counts down to conclusion:

Spider, satisfied, struggles to web-central,

Hauls up prey, a tug-of-war with gravity.

 

Glued, its four rear legs spread across remnant strands;

Its forearms clinch the warm papoose, pinceresque;

Abdomen arched, thorax risen: table's set.

 

The triumphant tiny head plunges, buries

Furtive fangs to feast on fruits of nature

'Til a burned-through matchstick is all that remains.

Author's Note

I don't very often write non-rhyming poetry, other than Haiku - I sort of get lost. But this blow-by-blow account sucked me in as I watched from the relative safety of the other side of the kitchen window whilst nature ran its natural course...

Reviews

[Rorenzu]

So its a fight between a prey and a predator.

[Jerald Larson]

It certainly was, bud; a bit one-sided, though it was. A tiny spider vs a comparatively large crane fly - a real David & Goliath tussle. Fascinating.