How pretty shines these little strands,
this rainbowed silk, the spider’s web.
How subtle are the weaver’s bands
which hold her guests while their lives ebb.
What nightly terrors trouble me
while wrapped in dreams I cannot flee?
What corner of my mind hides her,
what shadow in my soul makes room,
where she repairs for her encore
where she may lurk in unseen gloom?
How skillful is the spider’s art
and in creation plays her part.
Tale Told 