Strange ramble, in a buggy sort of way
Really, said the spider, I wish to web you
not for your death but for my life.
It matters not to me that you will never
fly. Nor may you blame my poison for
your struggle; it is only what I am
and what I do. Your billions of offspring would choke
the world, did I and those like me not need
to spin for food. Am I an evil? For you,
yes, I am; were I capable of sorrow,
I would apologize. But every eater
is evil to its food, unless the food
somehow enjoys being eaten. Well.
How nice for you, the fly replied.
You had a meal, and so I died.
Was this the end for which i came
into this world? For shame! For shame!
So free was I to flit about
for one brief moment; then, snuffed out.
So might the dinner-talk have gone
for hours more, if not for one
who interrupted on that date;
whose job was to exterminate.
feeling only a bit strangely today
(not that I seldom feel this way)