The army of spiders
lays its traps
well into the night.
Only to have their plans
revealed
at dawn
by the traitorous dew.

The mosquitoes and flies
live to fight
another day.

The spiders rest,
cloaked
by the dappled morning
shadow
of summer’s
still thick leaves,
ready
for the hungry day,
the long night ahead.

You are here. But you could be here or here. I mean, if you aren't too busy.