The crickets are symphonic these nights. Their singing so loud outside my windows with an energy mirroring the cosmos above: the high road paved with stars; the ancient mythological beings in all their drama.
Where do all the bugs come from? What purpose this singing through the deep blue summer heat and moonlight and starlight and mists and nights with no moon?
While laboring for sleep all the performances' sparkling sound across the stage of night, in the yard, offering itself for the coming out into and out of myself.
Oh Lord your creativity astounds me daily. There is so much to notice when we pay attention, when we choose to embrace the world of God and His presence in it.
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