Harvestman, harvestman
What do you harvest here?
Harvestman, I think I know:
Uncertainty and fear

Are skinny legs a fragile sign
Of father, not my own?
Or harbingers of venom’s bite
That make men weep and groan?

You wander in the corners
So much like a brown recluse
The color, too, is much the same—
A very clever ruse

Harvestman, harvestman
What did you harvest here?
My fears and my uncertainty
Before you disappeared?