In a patchwork of green you danced
amongst the soft folds of tenderness
running a rhythm of busy calm
woven through sunlight.
Rising and falling
softly into titian blaze
you search for centres
finding dusted middles.
In fine fur
you wave a lemon ribbon
interwoven in soma black
and fold four translucent veins of lace
with slender fore, mid and hind
forked feelers flicking air
your five ocelli and compound eyes
oscillate in surveillance sure.
Your purposing probe excites
and tickles with amber sweetness
filling pollen’s hungry hamper
with swollen wealth.
And so to you who dance
for His sole pleasing
know your bourn for golden cache
and in this generous brilliance I bow.