Memento Mori

One afternoon you crawled under the hedge
and spiderwebs got tangled in your hair.
You found a nest of baby birds, unfledged
but when you saw the spider, you were scared.

On hands and knees, in long-gone summer's grass
fear-paralyzed, no defense or escape.
It wasn't black, and bore no hourglass,
no danger there, but only danger's shape.

You've grown up now, and you've learned other fears--
some of them abstract, some all too concrete--
but even after, lo, these many years
you cannot bear the touch of spider-feet.

Now twining through your hair comes stealthy grey,
some spider spinning nearer every day.