The Spider_________ by Robert P. Tristram Coffin

The spider

With six small diamonds for his eyes

He walks upon the summer skies,

Drawing from his silken blousee

The lasework of his dwelling house.

He lays his staircase as he goes

Under his eight thougtful toes

And grows with the contransic flower

Of his shadowless, thin bower.                       

His back legs are a pair of hands,

They can spindleout the strands

Of a thread that is so small

It stops the sunlight, not at all.

He spins himself to threads of dew

Which will harden soon into

Lines that cut like slender knives

Across the insects' airy lives.

He makes no motion but is right,
He spreads out his appetite
Into a network, twist on twist,
This little ancient scientist.


He does not know he is unkind,
He has a jewel for a mind
And logic deadly as dry bone,
This small sun of Euclid's own.

By: ___ Robert P. Tristram Coffin