As I was taking ice cubes from the freezer

in what was a garage and now is a shed

for motley matters – warm with early spring –

I heard, behind me, a frantic, aggressive

buzzing, like a high-pitched rattle. A large

bumblebee near the roof was partly caught

in a web. A hefty house spider approached.

They disappeared into darkness. The rattling

ceased. The bee returned alone into the light

but was trammelled in the web – and I,

a minor god of winter, with hoar frost

in my beard, observing a war in heaven,

was helpless like a mortal bystander

as that grand creature flew to its death.