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,
We paused on the step, delighted.
The power of things to strive to be themselves
is absolutely self-regarding,