Death Vision

I think it’s a multiplication of sight,
like after a low hovering autumn rain
when the invisible webs of funnel weavers
and sheetweb weavers all at once are seen
where they always were, spread and looping
the grasses, every strand, waft and leaf-
crest elucidated with water-light and frost,
completing the fullest aspect of field.

Or maybe the grace of death is a split-second
transformation of knowledge, an intricate,
turning realization, as when a single,
sperm-embracing deer ovum transforms,
in an instant, from stasis to replicating,
star-shifting shimmer, rolls, reaches,
alters its plane of intention, becomes
a hooving, thumping host of purpose.