As I linger here on the edge of Cedar Creek's flowing waters; blood red, or nearly so, with nutrients from the ever watchful Cedars holding council on her banks, I overhear their conversation that has been shared long before I or anyone was invited to take part and will continue, as long as the earth breathes, long after the audience has filed out onto eternity's streets.
Here in this morning pause I feel like an invited guest and not a voyeur. The Creek's steady flow continues unabated by the interruptions of my ordinary life and ligers in my remindfulness as if she were my mother calling me home after a long day of playful exploration.
On Cedar's bank the forest's cry
announces that the Lord is nigh;
awake and hearken, for she brings
glad tidings of the earth that sings.
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