Each night the spiders craft their webs
Slinging silk through the starlit skies.
Gossamer glistens when night ebbs,
And the world wakes to pursue lies.

The arachnids’ fishing nets span
From tree limb to bush leaf through air.
As blindly as only men can,
I walk wrecking what’s wrought with care.

You’d think I’d learn every morning
To watch for their sticky trip wires
That glimmer when light’s adorning
Rays shine on where the dawn perspires.

You’d think they’d learn to build elsewhere,
Since I’ll pass through the path each day.
If they built higher than my hair,
We would peaceably share the way.

They’ll build in vain till they die;
Surely their spoils must justify
What’s gone in the blink of an eye.
We’re alike, this spider and I.

Its web’s a monument to me,
A frail thing which soon passes on,
Hoping to serve out its purpose
Before an instant finds it gone.