The moon was full and there she waited, her abdomen factory of silk full and ready
Amid humus and leaf, she poised her legs, her first silks moist and thready.
That first fine filament would broach the tall tassel and begin her web so delicate,
As all over the fall field of grass, more spiders’ delicate webs would demonstrate
That spiders webs and moonlight ebbs bring promises, or certain feasts, of nets spun good and steady.
There in the moonlight, they all set to work, filament strung, gossamer and long and strong,
Working fast, lashing circular spokes both sticky and fine, snaring