It’s my fault. I left it outside,
and she must’ve decided

it was a good place to hunker
down and start lacing a net

with her delicate long legs,
hinged needles that look

so vulnerable, easily broken.
But that’s why, instead of

bringing it inside where
it usually lives, ready

to water indoor plants,
I’m leaving her new abode

outside, letting her get on
with her task in a place

she feels safe. Or maybe,
like me, she’s simply a gal

with a fondness for purple.