By Joel Holmberg

Frozen beneath the snow
living in a cryologic state
the tiny bodies feel

until marsh ice melts and
spiders begin weaving webs

immediate urgency
with tinkling calls for a mate
competing with hundreds

stopping only
to seize with sticky tongue
that spinning spider

Listening all night
I wondered
at the cycle of
suspension and desperation

and how

no larger than my thumbnail
they awaken feelings
known and unknown

The marsh
is not
a lonely place

Joel Holmberg, former resident of Martha’s Vineyard for 26 years as a ceramist, and active in many other endeavors, has turned his attention to poetry, short stories, and monologues while living between Italy and Finland for many more years.