A delicate mirage of transparent silk withered in the breeze.
Weather worn wholes tore the artwork hung amongst the trees.
Shy beams of morning sun glistened against beads of mist that clung.
Nestled within the silk, dwelled an eight-legged creature where she hung.
Perched in the center of her web, she waited.
Until an unfortunate soul was fooled, persuaded
That what lied ahead was only but a mirage,
Not a trap meant for sabotage.
The over acutely aware spider felt her web tense.
Not a second wasted, she pursued to her offence.
In a steady motion, the spider sprung with her spinneret,
Producing a thin sturdy thread which lead to the prey.
Swiftly with skills only an arachnid can possess,
She inserted her fangs into the struggling repast with finesse.
With the aid of her pedipalps, she weaved her supper into a cocoon.
Perhaps she’ll grow an appetite later in the afternoon.