I spin my web in corners

dusty, out of the way,

overlooked places

where nourishment comes to me

on errant wing.

I keep secrets

quiet, vigilant,

out of the way

I hang out on my eight legs

ready to move at a moments notice

but at my best in stillness

when truth takes an errant wing

and my eighth leg flips a web

that twangs and adheres

to a nourishing secret

best held till ripe

I spin in corners,

in overlooked places

between lapses in judgment

I keep the space clear

gathering dust and mites

and other airborne annoyances

I hold my venom close

for it is rarely needed

and only in small doses.

From where I sit it is best to keep secrets,

to be secret

to bide my time

more comes to those who

unnoticed and aware

weave a wider web.

Here in the house of humans

corners,

lapses in judgment

and overlooked places

are many

and out of the way of women with brooms.

There is plenty of room

to work in tandem with their cleansing strokes

Plenty of room for the eighth leg to stir

Plenty of nourishing secrets aroused

as the tables are turned

and bed linens changed

in the house of man

Plenty of nuances to flavor the secrets

of truths caught in the act of a moment

on errant wing

Plenty the walls have seen

And

Plenty the tales

Spider

could tell