Dew Drops - Poem by Angela Wybrow
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.
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