Boding

Some people in this part of the world predict autumn's
arrival by acorns (when they fall), others by peacocks
(when the male's feathers leave his body), but my own
system relies on the tarantula. And today I saw my first.

Dusk is the time that the light, darkish beast - like a moving
eclipse - carries himself down the road, a caravan of one.
Eight elbowy legs. Huge hairy heart. Though today was hot,
this indicates to me that Fall is putting on her shoes & hat.

Other signs have to do with sound. It seems to travel too,
carrying unintentional news of the neighbours to me, across
the drained creek and tired flat. From quite a far distance
I hear pots, a door closing, laughter like a tall flower, dogs.
If two tarantulas were to mate I would probably hear it.
And it is likely that right now my cousin, over in Rosie's
cottage, can hear me turning pages in the dark.