I am a spider

I roll over this morning and watch a spider on the window screen. I notice it is one of those black spiders that will bite me if it gets in. My husband got a spider bite like that on his calf once. Nasty. But this one is not a threat; the window is closed, air conditioning on against the heat and humidity of July. I watch it slowly crawl across the tiny squares, its pincers opening and closing as it looks for food, I suppose, and I think, I’ll squash that later when I open the window. It is not an emotional thought; just a plan, a whim, something I will get to. And I wonder if I am a spider to some greater being, slowly rolling over in some celestial bed, considering this tiny human form below, and thinking lazily, I’ll squash her later. Unsuspecting of the event that lies before me, I plan my day.