Evolution’s Gift

Back against a rock,

legs crossed, pen in hand.

A tiny spider

the size of an o

strides across my lines.

I blow hard, harder—

he will not let go.

Four hundred million

years of selection

among land dwellers

evolved the response

to crouch down, to cling.

The o-size jumps off.

Next, a spry red bug

the size of i’s dot

traces figure eights

between the same lines.

I blow hard, harder—

even he, this dot

will not be blown off!

Struck by winds of change

his self holds on tight.

Evolution’s gift—

we know how to cling

Circus Play

Sounds of scampering circus play

in the big top forest tent.

Bushy as bushy-tailed is,

the acrobat troupe eight strong

chase dizzily up a trunk.

High-wire dashes and long fall,

a gray blur catches a twig—

they risk a lot for their run.

Joy comes by letting fear go;

unclasp this world, then embrace.

Every Body Eats

Food’s on every mind.

Lunching dragonflies

deftly skim the lake.

Scarce a foot beneath,

hungry trout pursue

at terrific speed.

I’ve already caught

my crackers and fruit.

A shiny blue wasp

drags a dirt-colored

spider twice her size.

Purposeful, she toils

past my knee and gone.

Often he twitches,

fervently hoping

it won’t end this way.

Clever camouflage

did not keep him safe.

Stronger crunch weaker

or sometimes, it’s true,

smaller munch bigger.

Every body eats

a some body else.

Among all creatures

the aim’s to get food

and not be made food.

Myriad strategies—

but who eats must die.

Foolish to assume

our human controls

will deter this fate.

We act believing

we’ll stay here always.

Nobody yet has.

∞

From the Fall 1994 issue of Inquiring Mind (Vol. 11, No. 1)

Text © 1994–2020 by Narayan