The Spider Ate the Fly

Mum was in the garden
With flowers in her hair
Waving around bright colours
In the light afternoon air

Dad was in the driveway
Covered in black smudges,
Writing sums and symbols
That none of us could understand.

The kids were in the street
Their feet span in circle
As they raced their bikes
Down and up the concrete

Mum was lost in books
Of an increasing pile
Glasses on her nose
Pen wiggling for miles

Dad stood at the stove
Stirring chilli and onions
Dirtying pots and pans
Emitting clouds of steam

The kids lay on the sofa
Playing aeroplanes
Balancing on the other’s feet
Propelling into space

Mum lay in the hammock
Her shadow rocked and swayed
The sunlight beamed right down
Her bronzing skin cried

Dad lay in the shadow
Listening to the wind
Grass blades between his toes
Dog by his side

The children gawped and marvelled
At a quivering spider’s web
Of thread so finely spun
The spider ate the fly

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