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.