3 posts
What am I hoping to see as I look at him? That he does not sow or reap or store away in barns and yet his breakfast awaits? But I’m less moved by his food than by his existence. Birds: what a crazy invention of an animal, like a child’s reckless concoction—look ma, it flies!
I hear,from the bench where I sit in the woods,six or seven distinct voices: High-pitched trills,Consonant thrum,Wandering warbles,Insistent monosyllabic bursts. The knock of a woodpecker against the tree opposite me. Each bird speaks its own language,sounds exactly like what it is,no shame in a higher pitchor shorter song. Each bird, exactly that bird’s voice;Each bird,...
I’ve got lilies and birds in my own front yard.I didn’t put them there,I don’t keep them there.As they are fed and watered through the natural course of things– a nature put in place deliberately, so Jesus told us, by God’s own self,So I do nothing to deserve their beauty, their symbolism–there...