The Spider
The spider is a wonderful creature. She weaves such a regular web which has such regular features all plotted in her tiny head. The spokes meet in the middle the net runs round and round. How they get there seems a riddle, tiny miles above the ground. The spider swings across vast spaces she plunges unimaginable depths without a hint of fear on her faces or the slightest thought of death. Her limbs are slim and busy, her touch, subtle as the wind. Weaving and leaving her monuments wherever she has been When her work is done she sleeps for day after day in her home content that her work will reap her the fruits of what she has sewn. May my house always be open to host her may her wonders be always near I am always grateful to behold her - nature's engineer.