amywink March 7th, 2008
I could never
live here among
sand crabs and
beach children,
listening to the
tribal chant
of gulls.
To live
so close and
hear the
heartbeat
of the earth,
the cyclical
pacing pulse
rising so full
in my senses,
wearies
body and mind
with the roaring
whisper of
life. . . life. . . life. . .
amywink October 15th, 2007
In the metropolis of my garden,
rectangular, black-spiked spiders
set their summer homes across
the human byways and canine routes.
Small and growing fast to
half-penny size, these
marvelous architects span
feet, yards, the comparable
length of miles, with
banded strands,
a construction compromise,
warning signs for the birds,
like their own bright bodies
of white, orange, or red.
I try to be a good neighbor,
cautiously walking my regular
and trampled paths, through
large openings between tree and shrub,
but the one occasional distraction,
or perhaps, misguidedly ambitious spider,
and I blunder into their guy wires,
destroying their day’s creation.
Tangled in wisps, and
suppressing the evolutionary
adrenal panic of capture,
I move again, with apologies,
and watch the marvel rebuild,
without deference to this
most reckless and
gargantuan oddity.
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