Cathedrals

 We went out early

to water our tomato tree,

a ripening Park’s Whopper

potted beside the yellow onions.

 

From the stalk to the ledge

there was something

birthed overnight:

all air shine,

fine-threaded and intricate

it stretched,

holding court

with drops of dew,

gleaming in the light.

 

Oh! I gasped,

as I marveled

at the spider’s web.

How she must have

toiled in the dead

of night to produce

this holy silk:

so delicate, too,

and yet so indestructible.

Those tiny spires

and vaulted ceilings

patterned with her chisel,

all held tight at the center

and spun out hexagonal.

 

At once, I was gazing

at the Gothic turrets

of Notre Dame

before the fires

marred her.

At once, the flowers

in the foreground

became the spider’s

stained-glass windows,

and I felt the urge to kneel

and kiss the ground

in prayer.

 

And I heard:

Who needs the trappings

of four walls

or to travel to the city,

when everywhere

in nature

there are cathedrals?

 

Kimberly Phinney, radixmagazine.com April 12, 2023