Spinner

Crawl along the tile,

scuttle on the floor.

While I’m making coffee

you walk under the door.

The itsy bitsy spider

went up the waterspout…

Eight hair-thin legs so tiny

as you cross the welcome mat.

I begin to wonder

why you look at me like that.

Down came the rain

and washed the spider out…

Black liquid trickling sweetly

as I stop and glance around.

I take a glass and cardboard

and lean over to the ground.

Out came the sun

and dried up all the rain…

I take you out the door

and I set you in the grass.

Though death comes to us all,

I hope it won’t come fast.

And the itsy bitsy spider

went up the spout again.