Unhappy Landings
A spider’s web bedecked with dew,
each crystal dropp reflecting light
Can turn a deadly trap into
a work of art for my delight
But the spider does not care.
her handiwork is not for me.
She waits in patience in her lair
for flies that cannot struggle free.
She is a supreme architect
and builds her web instinctively
She knows her business I expect
ensures she can dine frequently.
Although the flies have compound eyes
her web still takes them by surprise.
2-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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