What is it for, all this
beauty? The curve
of the spiral
from the laddered
twist of DNA
to the vast wave
of galaxies; the green
luna moth, breath-
taking & ordinary.
Does the prey see
beauty in its predator?
Do gazelles admire
the leopard? Does
the seal lift
its sleek head
to gaze in wonder
at the bumbling,
lethal polar bear?
Our science tells us
how. Our science
gives us reason.
But why must it be
beautiful? The aero-
nautic miracle
of the bumble bee;
the passing brilliance
of the butterfly. Surely
predators would be
more deterred by
ugliness. The hideous
and the platypus
have their own glory.
Humans have our
own glory. Do other
creatures adore
the useless,
the only gorgeous,
the green wave
of Northern Lights
dimming the stars?
The indented shadow
of the heron’s bath
in a snowdrift? Why
must it be beautiful?
When we pass, with
the bee, with
the butterfly,
with the polar bear,
the leopard,
the gazelle,
who will grieve
this deep and terrible
loss? Who will delight
in what comes next?
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