Moment of Grace

Between gulps of coffee and groans
About the fuckup with the keys last night
My eye catches
Through the small cottage window
The struggling form of something.

All around the garden
Bits of debris, molded leaf,
Some shredded particle of Turkish straw
From the repaired thatch-ridge,
Or small feather that lined
A now abandoned nest,
Are getting trapped in webs
The spider left.

I watch, distracted from you voice,
A weakening crane fly
Struggle with its short-remains of life.
You turn and look, get up,
Go out and rescue it.

What in the wonder
Of Crane fly-consciousness
Could explain this pass from death to life?
In all its faery-winged gatherings
On late summer’s nights,
What whispered myth
In its pinprick nervousness
Could it possibly entertain
To explain this?

And I in all the shared consciousness
Of my borrowed imagination
Am dumb with wonder,
Dumb to wonder,
Do I even know the moment
When, like her, my spirit’s free?