The Architect Of Nature

By Richik Ghosal

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.

This Poem Features In: