Spider's Nest

Spider, you've too many legs!
Be they eight or eighty –
I do not like you running fast
towards me, being matey.

I do not like you hanging there,
just above my head,
prepared, at any minute,
to drop on quick-spun thread.

I'm fond of dogs and guinea-pigs,
I'm happy with a mouse,
but I do object to spiders
when they come inside my house.

They're all right in the garden
at a distance – just a few –
and their silver webs are pretty
when they sparkle, wet with dew.

Today inside the compost,
I saw no scary legs,
but, left behind, a tiny nest
cocooning spider's eggs.

It looked so warm and cosy
and innocent and still,
it almost stopped me thinking
of what would, one day, spill:

so many baby spiders!
Be they eight or eighty –
long may they stay far from me,
avoiding being matey!

poem © Celia Warren 2015