‘”Will you step into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly’ …
So begins the 1829 poem of a wily spider and a foolish fly, written by Mary Howitt.
The 2018 version of it pits a spider against a red-spotted purple butterfly, who was bashing himself silly against the edge of my apartment building and finally fluttered to a rest on the ledge … right above the massive spider that guards the back door.
“Will you step into my…mansion,” said the spider to the flutterby/ ” ‘Tis the largest and most roomy mansion that ever you did spy.” / “The way into my mansion is just a few quick flaps below” / “There’s room enough to rest your wings, and it’s peaceful, dontcha know…”
The spider ran out at the disturbance and checked his web. Then, when no food or threat seemed likely, he slowly backed away into his corner, awaiting smaller and less clever (or lucky) prey.
“On second thought, my winged friend, I think you’d better go/ “You’ll wreck my webs and muss my threads, and all shall be grief and woe.”
I had to leave just as the butterfly, recovered and reoriented, left his perch and took his battle-scarred self – no greenie, this one – over towards the nearby park. Godspeed, little buddy, and keep away from the sales pitches of real-estate agents with eight legs and fangs!