Incy Wincy Spider...

 I crept down

to find Lettice cowering in the bathroom.

The growling god of Thor,

rumbled and grumbled across the sky;

accompanied by the flashes of his mistress's thighs...

Frack me! Her power as she flashed, 

would leave the Energy minister

out of a job.

A brazen hussy, worldly wise and full of 

her electric magnetism.

We sat the dog and I,

two lost souls in the sea of doggy fear.

Ted arrived, minutes later.

'Tea for two at two?'

I enquired.

As we sat, the storm rumbled away.

All doors to manual,

the breeze through, refreshed and renewed.

It was then I spied, in the gloom and  cooling air.

A spider, not one, but three waiting... in a row.

'Those wire flowers have done that

to you before! It's only the centres that you see!'

Arachnids in line in the 
half light... but wait... 

This morning the flower spiders

had a friend.

In the past I've written about my love of spiders.

I even had a pet spider who chose to live in 

the window in the kitchen.

I found him dead in the sink the

days just after Simon died.

When we go away for any length

of time I always put a towel over the bath

as a means of escape if one fell in.

In my utility room, which closely 

resembles Steptoe's yard, I carefully

drape string into each mug, glass, vase, jug

and bowl, for the very same reason.

Spiders are never killed in this house.

It comes in part from

my lovely mum

who always said...

'If you want to live and thrive,

always let a spider run alive!'
I always have...
in her memory...
She died aged 48.
Some might question her belief
in the saying.
Me, I can't kill anything...
however...
Some politicians I could
oh so easily knife.
Not the same though is it?