Poem "The Spider"

The Spider

He drew a slender parachute


To climb upon a wind

Then drifted to my garden

Inviting himself in



His spot is near a thoroughfare

Where moth and fly commute

And there he waits for bandits

To crash into his net.



An acrobat on a filament

Invisible to prey

To have a living garden

You must keep the sprays away.



MG Morris