In the early morn, the spider’s tale does unfold,
As it weaves its web, with silk so bold.
Each strand a masterpiece, carefully spun,
A silky metamorphosis, when night is done.
From dawn until dusk, the web takes shape,
Intricate patterns, like a fine landscape.
Dew-kissed threads glisten in the morning light,
A creation of wonder, a breathtaking sight.
The web is a dance, a ballet of grace,
Each movement deliberate, every spinner in place.
With precision and skill, the spider crafts its domain,
A work of art, in the shimmering rain.
At the heart of the web, the spider does wait,
Patiently anticipating its next tempting bait.
A trap so clever, a hunter’s disguise,
A silky metamorphosis, beneath the skies.
As the day reaches its end, the web holds fast,
A testament to the spider’s skill unsurpassed.
In the night, it glows with an ethereal sheen,
A masterpiece of nature, a mesmerizing scene.
In the evolution of a spider’s craft,
We find inspiration, its elegance and daft.
A silky metamorphosis, from dusk till dawn,
The timeless art of a spinner, forever drawn.