Want to dance?

-- From photographer Thomas Hook, New England Diary's man in Southbury, Conn.

"Floating in space, here's a Yellow and Black Garden spider that has its web on our front porch. It's a very small creature magnified by the use of a macro lens. I erased the web because it was distracting.''

Whenever I see a spider, I unfortunately think of "Design,'' the great Robert Frost poem below:

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth --
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth --
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.