Changing Focus – Poem by Willie Smith

Poetry by Willie Smith

Stand up from Yeats.
Peer over the railing
across the valley.
Popping into short-focus,
less than a foot from my nose,
a spider, fat as a grape,
forelegs pumping, working
on her wrapped-up lunch.
Looks, through the gauze,
to be a bee. Spider likely –
at the hub of her web hung
from eave-to-pillar-to-railing –
feeding all the while
I’ve been reading.
Two beings fueling
from the remains of two
distinct and yet alike
architects of the sweet.