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by Cameron Bieganek
The orb weaver, legs fluttering like
knitting needles, prances down her net
(cast across arugula),
to the fly knotting thread upon thread.
“Hush now,” the spider says. “Nothing matters
and that’s the beauty.” Meanwhile
garter snakes and garden toads whisper to Spring:
Flower soft, thanks for daffodil you.