An early-morning observation turned into a sonnet
I watched a spider crawling on the ceiling,
His body carriage black and unappealing.
Although his gait was ambling, rambling, odd,
His spindly legs traversed where few had trod.
Contributing in part to all his swerving,
The popcorn made his journey most unnerving.
For while this monster smaller than my finger
Did naught but lumber lazily and linger,
I did not wish to catch him if he fell,
Nor share my pillow even for a spell.
Above my eyes, the spider lost his holding!
But silver strands of gossamer unfolding
Secured the tiny marvel in his place.
Too late for me—I fled without a trace.