Recycling bin’s due out. I’ve checked the date.
But when I reach the corner where it’s stored,
A sparkling web is stretched from bin to gate.
A quiet spider guards his fragile hoard.
Arthritic neighbour, wheezing, urges calm,
Says “Hit it with that brush – I’ll just stand here.”
He moves ten feet away in his alarm
And shields himself behind his bin in fear.
I say, “Let’s leave my bin – it’s not full yet”
And help him put his bin out on the street.
We chat, and watch the spider in his net,
His home, his life, his universe complete.
My neighbour starts to go, then turns to say,
“We should be careful what we throw away”.