Spider

As I clean out a corner of the shed
I am surprised to see one piece of dust and fluff
scuttling away from my brush.
It is a spider making her dash for freedom,
horrified - I suppose - at what
I have done to her world.
And I find that I am sorry;
I did not mean to tidy your home
out of existence, girl,
I think, as I let her go.

I watch as she squeezes her way
back into the dark crack in the corner slats
in which, I assume, she has made her home.
Meanwhile, a little fluff, dislodged in the process,
remains
and I leave it there.
I do like things to be neat and clean,
but this is her space too
and there is surely room to share.