“My web is covered in plump, white spikes!
The silky strings I call home
Have grown so fat and cold.
How am I meant to capture my morning feast now,
When my own multitude of legs can only slip and slide
and turn a chilly numb?
Who would dare render me helpless like this, who?”
“Every few moments,
Another leaf swings down below,
Leaving my nude self for all to see.
If I weren’t so brown, I’d blush in sheer shame.
But thankfully, my self is lovingly covered
In a coat of crisp coldness.
My branches acquire a softer point,
And my skin a gentler touch.”
“A flower grows within my window.
Languid in its transparency,
And ever so silvery in its expansion.
Down outside, the ground is sound asleep,
All tucked up in white sheets.
The sun barely beams over the rooftops,
While all around it, the shimmering pink bows low.
And I snuggle into my own contentment,
Letting nature melt into normality.”