Sonnet To The Eight-legged

Picture by Magali Villeneuve

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*

Cast shimmerings of spring, so quick to dim,

On a morning as ordinary as

Those miracles we witness verbatim,

Step by step, beat by beat, and all that jazz.

*

See, nature loves to play, hide and seek. Them

Creatures of the deep crop up, love and vanish;

A love so clear, without the need to gem

Its crown; with no desire to hold nor t’ banish.

*

On soft tip-tapping millimetric feet,

Through canyon fingers, household desert plains;

Along the loom of its playground, a neat

Yet elusive figure wobbling remains.

*

See, spiders are nothing like you and me,

Yet there is no rule t’ what a friend can be.

*

Herons

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