I used to be afraid of spiders
Now I sit here and marvel
At how she spins her web
Stronger than titanium
Fine as thread
She sows her little web
Just above my bed

Who is it for?
A home for her children, perhaps
To scurry from thread to thread
In that little web

A whole life spent in a crocheted house
I wonder if she knows
Her work is invaluable, priceless and divine
She is part of Mother Nature
Part of another intricate web

Spinning, climbing, scurrying and clutching
She contributes
In her own little way
The spider above my bed
Had she met me when I was eight
She surely would’ve been dead


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