The Natural World

Love is the net the spider weaves It functions as snare and universe A mouth and a hand A setting to briefly know life and to lose it Darkness to fill with the aching light of stars A mind to fill with dreams Heat. Damp air. No strength. A life begins. Wind. Cold grass. Frost heaves. Stones pushed through time. The sun, moon and earth trace lines. The eye sees. Light spills inside. Grace weaves through threads hung in between the trees of heaven and latticed leaves. Details demand scribe. Page thirsts for ink. Life finds a witness. Earth mirroring grace - As a mother embraces her murderous sons As a fox takes unhatched young from nest Its avian pearls Brought to her home underground Kits fangs tear through gold And the day moon observes Fate tying souls who die and who eat Days move through loss, suns rise over grief Details demand scribe. Page thirsts for ink. Life makes its witness. Skies mirror space. The bodies of gnats suspended in cracked-glass corners Love is the harness that holds them in place Discarded bodies digested by time Love is a sentence the spider speaks as it weaves us into the natural world Life blooms and withers at once