Death in the morning

The battle was played out on my window pane.
As the crane fly struggled desperately,
its wings invisible in their impotent beating,
the spider continued spinning relentlessly and
amputated two of the fly's legs.
The end of the second leg freed the fly.
Denuded, it limped on to an adjacent pane and
rested.
Spider sated herself and stored the surplus,
delicately arranging the long spindly feast into a
compact, concertinaed, easily stored package.

The modified cranefly waited for death in the sun,
four legs gracefully splayed.
It's abdomen an unadorned, flared column,
fatally silhouetted.
Spider didn't keep the kill for future enjoyment,
as breakfast was taken early and replete,
she retired to a quiet corner of her web
amongst the ivy, abdomen faintly throbbing.

A passing bird,vied with its kind, and ate
the rest of the fly, an unexpected snack.