The sun has dried the dew of early dawn
And left a pearl upon a web in shade
Where Crafty Builder a new death has born
To make a meal caught in the trap he laid.
I catch the scent of fresh mown hay and weeds
Reflect upon the water’s quiet sound –
Notes lower than the jingle of my beads
And softer than the crunch of pebbled ground.
No one disturbs the stillness, except me
And I absorb the colours of the air
To fade into the background and just be,
The better nature’s tapestry to share.
No man-made strident noisy over-tone,
Just grass and trees and stream and me alone.