Itsy Bitsy Spider Has Left The Room Poem by Laraine Freeman

morning clouds have lifted
the remnants of night,
to reveal the shroud
buried between ferns
and a lone oak tree.

a web has been strung,
like a drowsy hammock, but,
unlike other beautiful
and glistening marvels of silken architecture,
this web is heavy,
lifeless, except
for the spider that occupies the corner
where no hapless insect
is likely to become
a succulent morsel.

no, this is not a web owned
by the spider, but,
a spider owned
by its own makings.