Monday of Holy Week Valentine

Flying about in the sunlight
All morning long I watched
Two gnats fighting or mating
Hard to tell which or else
Some design in between
The weaving of a scheme
It took the morning to repair
Their circles into rhymes
Their lines I sat writing there
But it all knotted up at once
Into a ringing in the air
And then they were gone
And now I can hardly read
The spell they scrawled
Of a morning without end