On our trails, early, before
lawnmower time. Just the drip, drip of morning moisture, a few chattering crows
And the hum of busy insects.
Slowly, the sun peers through.
And hides again.
Spider webs are everywhere.
Draped like washing out to dry on the ground.
And the leaves.
And in the trees, a necklace strung with minuscule diamonds.
So much tiny life buzzing and chirping unseen.
And paths meandering nowhere fast
Sometimes my jungle is just perfect.
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