In a Sunday morning meadow, the dewed grass bows to pray. The sun is in its pulpit to chase the clouds away. Swallows swoop like angels with gentle grace and ease, as a chorus of heavenly birdsong rises from the trees. Bees commune on nectar from the flowers growing wild, while a cricket chants a homily he eagerly compiled. A snake slithers across the grass to seek the promised sun, who pours down its golden rays to enlighten everyone.
Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page May 4, 2019