Summer Spiders

Summer, 8 o'clock,
time for 4-year-olds to go to bed.
over the ridge behind the cabin
the sun has long since set,
the sky still powder blue.

In the pitched attic,
with sky-shine 
through the dusty, webbed window,
my brothers and I listen -
quiet...
except for the hiss of the Coleman in the room below
the rustle of cards on the table
our parents whispering as they play
pine needles hitting the roof 
as the breeze teases them down.

But I know I can hear
tiny feet,
thousands of feet
eight at a time.
Daddy-long-legs slip out of the shadows
and stalk across the ceiling

They show up as I lie there
covers up to my chin
watching.
They group together - 
clumps -
crawl across and on each other - 
making upside-down spider pyramids.
Until the top ones lose their grasp -
the structure collapses.

They fall, snatching at one another -
chains - 
descending from the ceiling 
three feet above me,
falling down softly -
friends,
to reach my blanket,
to kiss my face.

Kathleen Hover
08-25-01