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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
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.
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.
∞