Home Wrecker

The game plan of the pendant spidersilk sac,
pregnant, suspended from an eave, awaiting
later autumnal disgorgement, nestled in a high
corner, unfazed by rain, unshaken by wind,
is nonetheless thwarted by the pressure washer’s
soapy stream. An aborted horde of immature
arachnids, apparently unready, yet, to weave
their own, cling and crawl along the remnants
of their ruptured incubator only to mostly miss
any further purchase, tumble over each other,
plummet to the soaked September soil below.

3 thoughts on “Home Wrecker

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