I heard the song of the trees as the wind rushed through,
twisting and swaying the trunks like a harpist plucking at the strings of the
harp. The ghost-like wisps of white
clouds hovered overhead playing with the pale glow of the day-lit moon. The lake reflected the sun back to the sky in
a silver sheen. Golden aspen leaves
quaked as I zipped my jacket up to my chin.
The ground danced with the leaping grasshoppers, warming themselves in
these last moments of October sun. This
was my worship today, my hour of Sabbath, being in creation, breathing the
sounds, hearing the warmth, watching the flavors, touching time with God. The bluffs revealed your glory, O God. Your radiance permeated the golden grasses
and your song drifted through the trees, carrying birds on wing. To you I give praise. Amen.