Angela Wybrow (Salisbury, Wilts, UK)
I love the mornings, when pretty dew drops settle
On every single blade of grass, bramble, and nettle.
Decorated are the herbs – rosemary, thyme and basil.
By millions of precious jewels, I am, totally, bedazzled.
By the dew, once hidden, spider webs are now disclosed,
And for their weavers, the problem of disguise is now posed.
To insects, the droplets are just like bright, flashing lights;
Making, previously unseen traps, now well within their sight.
Hedgerows look as if they’ve been draped with angel hair;
But these shining, silken strands are decorated spider’s lairs.
The droplets keep their shape due to surface tension.
Their simply stunning beauty is truly worth a mention.
Covered in dew droplets, everything looks so very fresh;
Plants love the sensation of dew, upon their tender flesh.
Captured by the light, the dew droplets sparkle so bright;
One of Mother Nature’s most truly, breathtaking sights.
Each single, dazzling droplet is only tiny in its size;
Just like a pearly teardrop, cried by someone’s eyes.
The dew disappears, as the morning, slowly draws on,
And, come noon, every last trace of dew is, sadly, gone.
Comments about this poem (Dew Drops by Angela Wybrow )
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