Spider's Lace Poem by moon batchelder

i wont erase the spider's lace
when dusting off the shelf.
it's lovely, and i like to think that
she is like myself;
spinning a reality of fabric made inside her.
should one grant me a flattery,
compare me with the spider.

i don't debate the moth it's fate,
that lists toward the flame.
it isn't really suicide. i know,
i've done the same.
and sped direct into the heat
of some forbidden passion.
could be that she, like me, can rise
again, from former ashes.

i cant begrudge the snail it's trudging
pace across the lawn.
life's not a race and if it were,
it never could be won.
it's such a subtle mystery,
the snail and i have learned it;
slow motion!
could it be that only she and i discern it.