Distraction

Spider or bee, I couldn’t say. Fuzzy hybrid bug

upside down it clings against the mesh in a most unceremonious place,

a corner of the small window facing north.

Whether content to cling and contemplate

the faded February garden below or inwardly in a state of insect panic to

find

its way back to relative safety

from this accidental resting spot…

I cannot fathom.

For a moment I was tempted, I admit, to try and understand the spider-bee clinging to the screen.

I clinging

to a fleeting moment of genuine interest

in its unusual appearance — pulling on my attention in that blinking of an eye.

A heartbeat more and I fell back

into less worthy distractions rumbling around my mind.

Yet hours later

now wondering if spider-bee lingers there.

Does it cling, still contemplating or panicking or whatever else might have been the state of its teensy consciousness?

Still regard the bare rose bushes and spindly hydrangea asleep below through the clammy season?

Still waiting or watching or wandering or whatever spider-bees do on the weekend?

Or is it done with me and clinging there for no reason at all?

Does there need to be any reason?

Is it

nested

in a dark, warm corner of the attic?

Or as so much mush in a robin’s gut?

Or swept to sea having slipped and dropped into the gutter?

Or observing me wondering still?