In the cellar door way glistens a spider’s sacred web,
with intricate detail and delicate thread.
Made to kill, enthralled am I
as a spider beckons with a perfect lie.
Such a beautiful weapon, a magnificent piece of art
a sense of wonder encases my awed heart.
Shimmering strings of silver silk, promise heaven yet
a spider feels no guilt.
In a hot and jealous rage, so selfish and so mean
I reach out and destroy a spider’s glory,
a beauty mostly unseen.
Regret rains over me, instantaneously.
I whisper a plea, for forgiveness; shamefully.
The spider, gliding, comes out of hiding
to spin again, another web of beauty and of grace.
Without an answer, I walk away
wishing for the talent to create
such gorgeous, iridescent lace.