No matter if it is wither or bloom
Love or hate — droughts or rain,
Spiders dwell in the sunflowers
And do not leave home
If there's a hurricane;
Birds in their wooden nests
And bees in their honeycomb,
Into the overgrown gardens,
The dragonflies roam,
None flees, everyone is home;
Listen to the waters—
Silver in the oysters
And the lakes holding foam,
Be like this little green spider
And desert not this lovely home.