Sitting in the darkened night
waiting for that time that’s right,
when the lights of day go down,
and the sounds of night are found.

Skitter scatter, pitter patter,
goes the insect cross the floor.
Just as fast as light itself,
goes this insect out the door.

Sliding slowly from the ceiling
from a silk unseen to eye,
bringing forth a special feeling
to those that are passing by.

Some are giants, some are elves,
Some have hair all over themselves.
Dangerous things some may be,
which may be the last thing that you’d see.

Once night turns to day
these insects go to hiding
For the joyous sense that they have gone,
to the darkness of where they stay.