In his essay “The Judgment of the Birds,” Loren Eiseley describes an orb-weaver spider’s web like this:
There were a couple of iridescent green beetle cases turning slowly on a loose strand of web, a fragment of luminescent eye from a moth’s wing and a large indeterminable object, perhaps a cicada, that had struggled and been wrapped in silk. There were also little bits and slivers, little red and blue flashes from the scales of anonymous wings that had crashed there.
Some days, I thought, they will be dull and gray and the shine will be out of them; then the dew will polish them again and drops hang on the silk until everything is gleaming and turning in the light. It is like a mind, really, where everything changes but remains, and in the end you have these eaten-out bits of experience like beetle wings.
The essay appears in The Star Thrower (find in library). On the back of my copy, there’s a blurb from Ray Bradbury in which he predicts that the book “will be read and cherished in the year 2001” and go to the moon and Mars someday. It hasn’t left Earth, as far as I know, but it is still loved and cherished in 2017.