The Garden Spider

Date: July 15, 1991

One misty morn, the first at the farm homestead.
On the way to the barn, past the seldom-used shed.
A gossamer spider web was spun there.
Its silk filaments, as fine as angel hair.
The threads held dewdrops, a wonderous sight,
Each strand sparkled in a sunbeam’s slanting light.
To a boy of eight, this was a heart’s delight.

That geometric orb web, so well designed.
Instinctly spun from an Arachnid’s mind.
Between twigs the web’s limits were first spun,
From a center focus, strong silk spokes were next done.
Holding line coils spiraled out, laced to each spoke.
So that neighboring pairs become a capturing yoke.
A zigzag signature band, the architect’s last touch stroke.

The web drew the youth forward, in a dreamy mystic trane
A horsefly was drawn in too, but it came quite by chance.
Its wings struck then stuck to a sticky duo yoke span,
Wings flexed, fluttered, buzzed like a miniature fan,
The filaments held, only quivering the trampoline bed.
The panic vibrations channeled to a trip line ahead.
A dinner signal for the spider at her nest bedspread.

Silent and sure, the orange garden spider darted to prey.
Her abdomen large and sound, she in a family way.
Her striped attire, orange, yellow, black, and white.
She a contender to web splendor, a beautiful sight.
To her task, the tangled fly was easily found.
A fang bite kiss, the fly was tied up, bound.
A tidy feast on this lacy table round.

Each image an action carefully stored,
Etched in the boy’s memory core.
To be occasionally remembered and compared
To life’s other experiences. Each should be shared.