Like a Spider

I was sitting on the front porch couch staring at my garden when I saw a large black spider scurry out of the corner to collect a meal from it's web. The spider is a smart one. It has found a very secure home where the two beams supporting the ledge just fail to meet leaving a gap just the right size to comfortably shelter it's resident. Outside the spider has constructed a horizontal net that easily catches everything in it's path. The net is the spiders own front porch, and she, like me is steping out for a spot of fresh air. She goes back inside and moments later an unsuspecting beattle struggling against the Ellensburg winds finds it's way to her steps. As the gusts get stronger the web is filled with seeds and small plant particles. She does not mind though. She has eaten well today, and now there will be something to tuck away for dinner.
I am afraid of this sizable arachnid, and yet I would not dream of killing her. I respect her inginuity. It has been what's allowed her to grow so thick and creepy. I begin to think how, like her, I also cast a net out into the universe to see what I could catch. My persuit of happiness is much like her persuit of sustanance, and we have both managed to find exactly what we didn't know we were looking for.