Photos by Theresaurus.
The clouds were all brushed up and back
The wrong way by the wind;
The trees were attitudes in black;
The brooks were disciplined.
Then soft as spider on a shelf,
Or satin mouse at birth,
Or as a pigeon lends itself
Reluctantly to earth —
No louder than a silken sound
Of the web’s silver wheel,
Spraying the darkness all around
With spokes of silken steel —
As soft and softer than all these
Parted the sky at noon;
And the air stood up league-deep in bees,
The white bees of the moon.
-Joseph Auslander in All the Silver Pennies