Tuesday, August 14, 2007


Dew drops, jeweled
By morning sun,
Light up the web
My spider's spun.

Graceful thin lace,
A beauteous thing,
More flimsy than
Gossamer wing,

Silk threads stitched in
Dainty design
That put to shame
Artworks of mine.

Once this spider
Traveled alone,
Destined to face
Life on its own,

Its first need was
A home, of course.
The second, a
Ready food source.

It had no wood,
Nail, hinge, or pin,
Just its own silk
That it could spin.

The spider knew
It must proceed
To weave a web
That filled each need.

Between window
And stairway brace
It filled up its
Allotted space

With a design
That proved good sense,
Both food trap and
Line of defense,

Welcome thrill to
Artistic eye,
But killing field
For careless fly.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Absolutely loved this poem. Thanks
Uncle Emil. Your niece Carole