prisms

All summer a spider, mottled like a cheetah, 

managed a web by our kitchen door.

 

Tap the net

and it would do its eight shoe scuttle. 

 

It went finally:

but the engineering survived –

intricate, pliable, foolproof –

through seasons of drizzle and bluster.

 

On an April day, a pallid sun

backlit trapped raindrops,

shimmering prisms.

We paused on the step, delighted.

 

The power of things to strive to be themselves

is absolutely self-regarding,

and unstoppable.