Inside, the wolf spiders are on the prowl at night.... and outside orbs and newly hatched termites.

Ballet

Autumn's prelude
Arrives with the subtle change of afternoon light
Embracing an erratic dance
Of delicate wings.
From decaying logs beneath the duff,
Amber termites scramble
To begin their tremulous flight.
First one,
Then three,
Then finally a bustling host,
Wings newly flexed and fragile, fluttering into light.
Carelessly
They flit
To have their frail wings rent
Like Isadora scarves
On the spun wheels
Of awaiting fat chocolate spiders
With cream banded legs.
Or crash land,
Hurriedly abandoning their wings,
Ashamed they are not innately
Creatures of the air,
They scurry,
By twos
For hidden places
Where a novice troupe will make an aerial debut
Next summer's end.

Copyright©2000 S. Grieve