In that bright light
when the sky glows
with the promise of a rising sun;
when the air is cool
and moist,
and the dew lies heavy on the ground -
Then come the weavers,
threading their strands thro' the grass,
so that in the evening
when the sun is low
it shines through silken threads
that shimmer in the fading light
making
a field of gossamer.
by The Weaver of Grass
Photograph ©Alan Murray-Rust (Geograph 2021)
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/Z7qIBEs
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