Passing by the beauty of the countryside,
With so many places to play and to hide,
With splendid colours spread everywhere,
A place of gloom and sorrow nowhere.
In this spectacular lap of nature's beauty,
I slowly forgot my cares and my duty,
But something I noticed among the bushes,
Was much more than the colours or the lushes.

It was just a newly-woven spider's nest,
Much lesser colourful than the rest,
But the artistic skill exhibited,
Left me speechless and so outwitted.
How could a tiny insect build,
Something so patterned and so skilled?
It certainly was a weaver or a gifted designer,
Clustered in its small kingdom of fur.

"Can human beings be ever so skilled,
Their ideas being such artistry-filled?",
Pondered I at the structure that left me awed,
As the patterns reflected the gift of God.
Finally, I went back to my daily chores,
Driving back through the fields and the vast seashores.
The spider was completely left alone,
Resting in its abode, probably, tired till the bone.