Spider, Spider

Spider, Spider

In lunacy so phobic

Of this hard working life form

whom fancies sporadic

As erratic his movement in the wind

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Spider, Spider

His web work

Arduous spun diligence

Fires his work

I am nature’s Leonardo; the master sings

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Spider, Spider

Catches glass

In his dew crystallized easel

Catching flies this predator

He always knows what hides inward

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Spider, Spider

No ease for me

To be felt by his eight . . .

Though there is no peril

I fear, I fear – he respects, but I am certain . . .

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The spider always finds his masterpiece