Spider Web Poem by Thomas Golding

Images of dew shaken down by wind
Marvel of engineering line and brace
The builder crouches to defend
As my form looms gigantic
This clear spring morning
Not the sort of prey
She wants at all.


Dashing toward me waving her legs
Frantic brave and desperate
I can sympathise with how she feels
All that work about to be wrecked
Don’t fang me dear
There’s a cocoon of eggs
I'll walk around your work of art.