Ehh. It doesn't say quite what I want it to say. It is almost there, almost a match for the image in my mind of a woman, strolling through the morning light, coming up a vast spiderweb glinting, and hung with dew, and finding in the web, a comfort, a joy in belonging, in its beauty. Wrapping herself within the surprising strength of the filaments, but not so tightly that she is bound, and not so warmly that she depends upon the web for comfort. But nonetheless noticing and enjoying the surprising strength and endurance, the potential of the web. The satisfaction and contentment merely of it existing, I suppose. Just a moment of beauty in an early morning. A bit enchanted, a bit private. Perhaps a bit silly, this celebration of such an insubstantial thing. That is amazingly strong.
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