Watcher in the Web

I don't consider myself a poet, but this is the first poem I've written that I don't hate. Let me know what you think:

She dances across the canopy
Weaving a web of white and silver.
With speed and skill, her silk takes shape
Along the sky.

Her welcoming home shines
Like a beacon amongst the stars,
Calling out to the small creatures of the night.
They look for salvation in her soft silk.

The watcher in the web embraces
The cool night air as she lays in wait.
And so the creatures of the night come to her
One by one.

Harsh beams erupt across the sky,
Bringing an end to her ritual.
Her dance will wait until the stars
Beckon to her once again.