Gift 

the summer I was twelve
my father woke me at near dawn
led me from our summer cabin
there’s something you must see he said
laden with sleep and duty
I followed
 
damp grasses pressed summer
cotton to my ankles as
he led our barefoot way to
a cliff overlooking the river
here he stopped and planted me
firmly in front of a spider web
sprinkled with dew
 
before it was too late
he wanted me to know such beauty
 
it’s true he was losing me that summer
my hair wrapped nightly
in juice cans for beauty’s sake
legs newly shorn
heart trapped in gossamer dreams
 
he saw the delicate web cast in
intricate pattern   magnificent order
 
I saw the moth
heaving powdery wings
in desperate struggle
 
forty years and
I remember still
that heavy head
the torn wings
that exquisite geometry