On Having Meant Well
by GEORGIE STARBUCK GALBRAITH
MY clumsy hand
Fumbles to catch the spider in the sink
And lift her out to drier safer land.
But she, poor soul, must think
It’s doom incarnate. Desperate and nimble,
She eludes my fingers in a dizzy chase in
The slippery basin,,
Then . . . does her wild heart weigh the awful gamble? . . .
Leaps headlong down the drain
To drown, quite likely . . . while I stand and grumble
That all my good intentions were in vain.
Fumbles to catch the spider in the sink
And lift her out to drier safer land.
But she, poor soul, must think
It’s doom incarnate. Desperate and nimble,
She eludes my fingers in a dizzy chase in
The slippery basin,,
Then . . . does her wild heart weigh the awful gamble? . . .
Leaps headlong down the drain
To drown, quite likely . . . while I stand and grumble
That all my good intentions were in vain.