On a fine morning in late August, an old cedar stump in the woods wears a carpet of moss. The tiny jeweled wonders emerging from the thatch are dancing seed capsules, the delicate filaments wearing raindrops and strands of spider silk. On the right, a watchful spider waits unseen for its breakfast to put in an appearance.
The moss colony was perfect, and for the life of me, I can't come up with the right words to describe it. It just is, all by itself. A small story. Fragile. Glistening. Amazing. Inspired by my friend, Shelley Krause, perhaps a haiku?
morning on the trail,
mosses rising into the light—
small wonders
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