She Weaves a Web

Fingers in air
she weaves a web,
one strand here and
one strand there.
Dressed in dew,
she glistens of morning.
Dancing in thyme,
she smells of spices.
Singing of love,
she spins a spell
and fills her bath
with scent of Myrrh.
One more turn and
in goes Frankincense.
Moment by moment,
strand by strand,
in a weave
ever more intricate,
building a new life
full of dreams and
in those dreams
she sees a new way
coming nigh.