If one could conclude as to the nature of the Creator from a study of this creation it would appear that God has a special fondness for stars and beetles.
—J.B.S. Haldane, British geneticist 1892–1964
Because I offered iris to the earth,
buried bulbs deep beneath soil,
I saw the mirror beetle appear in the garden.
I opened my hand and the beetle
flew to my palm, a miracle
beneath wing-coverings.
I passed the bamboo and noticed the universe
in a web, a red spider nebula,
a Beehive Cluster circling above.
Later when I looked to Scarabaeus,
the beetle made from stars, I wondered
if it was easier to trust a constellation.
Insects vanished, came and went
with the seasons, but stars circled
a dependable dance on the ceiling.
I planted more bulbs and the beetle appeared
again. Slowly I’m learning how life’s created
from a galaxy of surprise occasions
—wind chimes playing a concerto
for moths, a damselfly sewing the last stitch
of summer to August’s fallen hem.
The mirror beetle arrived daily.
As I held the insect, the cocoon I wore
began to unravel while Betelgeuse brightened
Orion’s shoulder. And here on earth,
I trusted chance a little more
and the glow mirrored in my hand.