Nature’s Hidden Marvels

Ann H Gabhart Ann's Posts, One Writer's Journal 6 Comments

Poetry is a fresh morning spiderweb telling a story of moonlight hours of weaving and waiting during a night. (Carl Sandburg) Can you see the spiderweb attached to the purple seed heads of the grass here? I went out one morning last week and there were dozens, perhaps even hundreds of webs scattered throughout the grass in the hayfield. That …