I first noticed her web
in the apple tree
after the rain,
holding droplets
and waving like a flag in the breeze after the storm,
a misleading wave
like surrender
when it is all really a trap
and it isn’t sunlight captured in those droplets
but death and darkness
in a flirtatious curl
tempting others
unsuspecting
or poorly educated
to venture across these webby strands
a shortcut,
oh yes, a short cut,
a life to be cut
short,
a baffled cootie now destined to be
the next meal

how more civilized as I
walk across the yard
and pluck
an apple from the tree
take a bite
after the spider and I pray together,
“bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts”