How constant does the spider weave
Her web up on my borders
Showing me the gifts she leaves:
Grey ghosts that hang in corners.
I know the time created she
Through Nature's inner passion
Is the same way she attended me
In showing me her fashions.
How well does the spider love
In these gifts she left to me
A lesson learned, I sweep above
Her secret of Constancy.
A quiet diligence she does keep
With earnest vigil by the way
It's when I sleep she works by night
And leaves her Art by day
And then again I think of her
As she must dream of me
And soon remember things that were...
Forgot...and then set free.
And as she works upon her web
With great effort on her part
Eventually she will weave her bed
Wound deep about my heart.
One Small Token Nemo