Gossamer Lodgings, the creation of a web by a spider as daylight chased away the moon. |
A silhouette, a work of art as the gloaming came her way There was no breeze just tangerine at closing of the day. And as the sunset spilled her paints where mountain ranges lay There began the spider's toil. She was dressed in ashen grey. So from the eaves she hovered there, her bearings would be first Compelled to lay foundations with each silken thread in verse And with a thrust she tossed herself onto a summer flower's burst Of petals where she moored her silk and for a moment there she perched. With strength that is unknown to man, she climbed that silken floss Back to the eaves and there a ways she sent that thread across Then harnessed to it's anchor was her silk and lace on moss She drifted down beneath a leaf; for a moment she was lost. Substructure laid on every branch, each grapnel seemed concrete For not a thread, nor joist or eave she needed to re-seat Then on a sphere she circled once then ninety more repeats Until her web, a masterpiece was perfected and complete. A new day dawned and came the dew like prismatic pearls it graced Each tiny thread, each filament and on every single space There lay a jewel imbued with rainbows that Mother Nature placed And on a gossamer web, a spider, those crushed opals had encased. |