Sonnet To The Eight-legged

Picture by Magali Villeneuve




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.



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