This silent spider's legs are long and bent.
His body's small. I sense he's sentient.
I shudder but my dew-chilled wings prevent
my taking flight. Some sullen glint
from his eight eyes sedates me.It is meant
that he'll have me for breakfast. Strangely spent,
I scarcely even struggle. There's the scent
of sadness in these flowers. Sacrament.