How much harder to write
the open days– calm at dawn
the morning a breeze,
all windows open to prepare
for later heat. The details
are kind: Young maples
have filled the silence
between the pines
with undulating green,
you’d never guess just how
the bank drops off–
Down in the valley
children scream in play,
two girls wailing
like teakettles,
like birds of prey,
and on the porch, lines
of silk spark in succession —
spider webs caught
in a dappled ray,
like so many things,
invisible,
except under just
the right conditions–
OPTIONAL POETRY 
“like so many things,
invisible,
Meaningful line and i think that meaning of all words of this poem
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Thanks!
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Your wlcome c
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The last two stanzas are perfect.
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Thank you!
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perfection!
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thanks for your kind words!
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Gorgeous!
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thank you so much!
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You welcome. I especially liked how you capture the idea of invisible things ‘un-vanishing’ under certain conditions. It’s a beautiful piece.
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Beautiful.
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Thank you, georgia!
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