Monday Morning Poetry

The Spider's Web

By Jay K. Johnson

In a seldom used dusty old storage space,

I spotted a beautiful spider’s webbed lace.

The work that it took to create such a sight

Must have taken a spider all day and all night.

A marvelous feat of a spider’s great skill.

Anchored securely from the walls to the sill.

With no more time for a web on this day.

In a wave of my hand I swept it away.

As the fragments of gossamer swept past my face,

I crushed a small world and I left not a trace.

A spider now homeless and jobless it seems

I killed spider hopes and all spider dreams.

A day and a night to a spider must be

A month of hard work to you and to me.

What is contained in the spider’s small id

That lets him create such an outstanding grid?

Do spiders get down and go through a depression

At seeing the end of their only expression.

Do spiders hire therapists just to ask why?

Do they cry and get mad, and curse God or die?

Spiders don’t scream out to God “We can’t take it”

Or worry of webs and the time spent to make it

At losing a web they don’t run to their mother

They simply get busy and create another.