late winter's afternoon sunlight dapples the white wall
little jump spider rushes across the lazy light's play
jumps on a fly, ricochets back one step.
fly flies off
late winter's afternoon light sadly flits here and there
on the white wall.
spider stands still.
i wonder: while she now stands there,
is little jump spider carried away
by her struggle with severe self-criticism?
arguing with herself
‘did i do something wrong?’
‘what exactly happened there?’
‘how could i let that happen?’
winter turns to spring
the light comes and goes.