With every day the children play
The spider webs are torn,
And every evening, they don't grieve --
A new orb web is born.
The corner space will make a place
The spotted, colored sphere
Makes triangle with spiral, pulls
A network insects fear.
They'll make each moth into a broth
Drunk from a silken cup,
Then toss each husk throughout the dusk --
Morn, all the kids wake up.