A Dappled Presence
Now that the leaves are full and present, the trees have a softer sound, a whisper instead of clacking, and the woods are filled with dancing shadows, a tenderness, a gliding of dappled presence.
A little brown bird is in the prickle pines. Climbing sideways up the tree, pecking. Life out here... travels upside down and sideways, pure vertical and horizontal, under the darkness of a needle blanket. It seems there is no direction that is off-limits in this place.
The mourning dove flutters in with her chirruping. What used to surprise and awe me has turned to the sweet comfort of familiar sounds — I find a deeper rest in the stability of this place and its attendant characters.
Two dark gray birds just "kissed" — a peck from beak to beak... I could lie here all day and never be bored or restless.
"Give me your lantern and compass, give me a map...So I can find my way to the sacred mountain, to the place of your presence." Psalm 43, The Message translation