The Mightiest of the Crawling Creatures


The little ant scurries, rushing to her burrow, she hides, 

Hoping the rain won’t destroy her freshly dug tunnels. 

The sweet little dragonfly is forced to land on a dewy frond,

Her wings, damp with the mist of the morning. 

Even the little snail, who usually longs for a drizzle,

Is swept swiftly into a deep, mud filled puddle.


But the mightier of the insects has foreseen this calamity.

She completed her web just before the first mist. 

Each little string spun carefully into a soft, silky pattern

Up and down, left and right, over and under, she spun with care.

Now, as the rain falls, her web becomes a fresh canvas 

For glistening dew drops and bright sun beams aglow, 

And when the rain ceases she will began again.


This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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