November 2015
A black and white bird wings his way down our hillside, the perfection of his wing tips as he spreads them and the brilliant white of his little cloak making me stop and stare. So much beauty lavished on this one small, fearless bird; considered a beggar, but clothed as a king.
He lights on the bare branch of a quaking aspen, the contrast of his dark and light feathers perfectly suiting this crisp, frosted morning. He pauses for a moment and then plunges straight down, wings close to his body, then spreading them wide flashes down the hill through the trees.
How can something so magnificent be so common? The abundance of beauty on this good earth fills me with awe for the One who crafted it with such care.
When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.
Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet.
Psalm 8:3-6
