Graham Fowell Poems
|43.||Missing In Acton||3/12/2015|
I saw a fly trapped
In a long abandoned spider's web.
The web weaver moved on to better pickings
Or herself taken by a bird,
The predicament of the fly - ensnared in an untended trap,
Was to be doomed to a meaningless end,
A casualty of a gap in the natural order,
To struggle and die in vain
So I carefully liberated the fly
Who sat nearby for a while,
Washing his face,
Untangling his feet,
Sorting his wings out - then,
In the early morning June sunshine,
He flew off with a sort of Victory Roll,
Loop the ...
Four billion years ago small life dies;
After three billion years
Enough small stuff has lived and died
To enable bigger stuff to live and die.
The fertile biological soup expands
From the biggest negative of all…death
So a negative produces a positive,
Which then observes it.