The spider’s web is woven tight
She works on it most of the night
By moonlight spins she a silken thread
That glistens dewy overhead.

Her architectural design
Instinctually so very fine
A web to catch a meal off guard
There in the garden in the yard.

Spun taunt between the garden’s gate
Tis not too long she’ll have to wait
Early then at the day’s greet
She’ll have a tasty thing to eat.

Day comes and still no sign of food
Does not improve her spider mood
No breakfast and now on toward noon
She has to find some lunch real soon.

Ah, but then the curds are spied
One silken thread on which to ride
Will take her down next to the tuffit
Along beside the young Miss Muffit.

Miss Muffit in her curls and lace
A horrified look upon her face
Screams and leaves her curds and whey
The spider eats from her buffet.

That day the spider got a savor
Of a brand new kind of flavor
And as she spins her web with ease
Spells out the words “cheese please”.

03/19/2005