The dew on the webs is a pause, a breath held between two heartbeats of the world. In that silence the air gathers all the tiny, unseen stories—how the soil remembers a storm, how the roots whisper to each other—and lets them speak in a quiet language we can hear if we stop and listen.

When I hear those whispers, I am drawn to the small acts of resilience—how a seed pushes through the earth, how a leaf holds its color against the wind. Those moments remind me that even in silence, life keeps making itself known.