Written by: Albert Ahearn

The phenomena’s of nature are nurtured like a mother. She never favors one over another. Although her rose-child may be her comeliest flower she bestowed on sister sibling blooms the sweetest scented perfumes. Her spiders all weave their webs with fine, sticky, silken filaments’ She gives potential prey a way avoiding it with fitting wings and legs. Then there are we who set ourselves apart from her, only to be reminded otherwise.