Jumping Spider

It is a warm spring morning
A steady gentle breeze wafts and drafts
Pushing its way across the treetops
And settles in my lap
The pollen and particles
That temporarily adorned the nearby branches
Flowers high above so out of sight
Hidden in the great waves of green
Broken beauties decorate the day
Drop their offerings
Gifts to the ground.

My reptilian brain drives me to bask a bit
Armchair and coffee
I am ready for the nine o’clock show.
Right on cue
A jumping spider appears
And eight eyes wide open
It inspects the knuckles of my hand
Resting on the arm of my chair.
Furry fleshed bristle
Onyx eyes gleam
It raises its abdomen and spinnerets
And streams downwind
Jets of glowing silk
Cross my chest and lap
And I am captured in this moment.