Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Spider Dance

I do not know what to do
to stop the fall
of numbers.
It is like trying to keep the leaves on the trees.
I do not have enough hands.
I could glue,
and erase,
and blow,
and run,
but another would come.
In the garden, the spider walks past me
carrying a dead insect.
He does not worry about things he can’t control
in this world.
He is busy preparing
his dinner feast.
I watch him cross the red brick patio,
each step a delicate dance,
part warrior,
part Fred Astaire.
He is so busy,
he never even sees the shoe coming towards
his tiny head.