Sonnet #234

To sing of miracles, let us sing the spiders’ song

This misty early spring, rains crystallize the webs

the architecture glistens like a crystal silk and strong

so strong to hold the weight of water; how did

these tiny minds build up to this from Darwin’s years?

Surrounded by such miracles we can’t even stop

to enjoy in all this rain, I sing of tiny spiders

how small their arms, how small their lot

Inventing in the corners of the world their dazzling

Made for no one, beauty for no sake at all

Despite eight eyes, they never admire the puzzling

shapes and countershapes that form their whole

The tremor in the web beneath their feet

is all they know, a tense vibrato of life and defeat


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