I keep noticing threads in nature.

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Fine lines crossing, stretching, reaching -
in roots, in leaves, in spider silk,
in the delicate structures that hold things together.

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It makes me think of mycelium, and how​ there is a whole world

beneath the forest floor that asks to be noticed differently.

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Fine threads of mycelium move through the soil,
around roots, beneath fallen leaves,
through wood as it slowly returns to the earth.

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Quietly connecting.
Breaking down.
Recycling.
Beginning again.

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We walk above it without knowing
how much life is unfolding beneath our feet.

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Perhaps that is part of the wonder of nature. 
so much of its work happens quietly,
in places we rarely think to look.