Web Spinner

So the web is made. Finished. And oh how soft it is.
Reflective and pure.
It preys on anything smaller than itself. Smaller.
It likes to hunt at night.
Cold wind. Haunted trees. Flowing river.
Behind the rocks it waits
Sending the song of a widow to my mind.
The cries are unbearable, disturbing, silent.
I wait and listen.
How proper it seems under these circumstances
to hold your breath...close your eyes.
When you know what is to come.
You hear it every day, hear it every night.
And still you do nothing.
You know to do nothing.
She swirls wonders around the bee.
A beautiful dirty. A wondrous scream.
And again she saved me.
From the blistering sting.
The deadly aftermath that could have been.
A kill for a kill.
I can now sleep.
I can remain safe for another day.
I can see the moon again.
My pay is given in the morning
My pollen lures the bees
Her food, my fight.
So I
shall always...do nothing.