One morning last week I raced the sunto take a walk whilst day was young
the old orchard path would be my route
the dew-kissed grass would soak my boots
Far reaches reached I turned toward the sun
striding back where I'd begun
Towhee, field sparrow, mourning dove
sweet summer songs filled the air with love
When something glistening caught my eye
A shaking spider web strung head-high
The web weaver shook with all her might
that I might understand her plight
Vibrations from my heavy feet
Had tipped her off that we might meet
Her movement had intent to warn
to keep her precious web from harm
And I, unknowingly, like a deer
could give Miss Spider much to fear
In shaking hard her sun-dappled web
She'd found a place inside my head
Which warned me now to stop my feet
lest face and spider web should meet
Smiling at her clever warning sign
I ducked beneath her lowest line
Thank you, dear, for telling me
of this important thing so I could see
My thoughts, then on the World Wide Web
should have clearly been on yours, here, instead
Your crafty trap, unharmed, may still
snag a juicy fly—one not named Bill
When my two legs trod this path again
I'll look for you, my eight-legged friend.
