I Tried to Count the Blossoms

This morning

Inspired by Ms. Mary Oliver’s attempts to count the leaves on a tree,

I try to count buckwheat blossoms

So tiny, white and pink

But with the first ball, I give up

Distracted by a winged critter no bigger than a bit of floating dust

Struggling in a web

It will need a miracle to escape

“Oh, goodness,” I say

“You are stuck.”

Then, following the straight, evenly spaced hair-like lines

(so unimaginably thin that I marvel at its ability to catch anything),

I lift my eyes and am startled for a moment;

Sitting in the web’s center is the designer, architect, artist, and laborer, all in one

Delicate, beautiful, carnivorous

And perhaps hungry.

And I wonder,

Aren’t we all the fly?

Aren’t we all the spider?

Two hours later, the Sun high and hot, I go out again;

All that's left is one silken strand.

Still, I keep trying to be the web.