A Daddy-longlegs probes the air using the tip
of its extended leg as an antenna while it holds fast

to the screen door with its remaining seven legs.
I approach slowly, pass my hands in an arc

over its body but from a distance of a few inches,
to give it time to sense my presence. At first

it is inclined to hurry away, bearing its seedlike body
like a princeling held aloft by eight faithful courtiers,

those quite dependable seven-jointed legs. Or like
the shepherds who walked on stilts to better observe

their flocks. Or like a miniature dirigible floating
above its guide-wire legs. But then a curiosity like mine

gets the better of him and we both think twice about
flight. We linger here—Phalangida, Shepherd Spider,

Harvestman, Walker-on-Water, and a curious old woman. For
one long moment nothing in this world seems as important.