Early June, and the strawberries are
bursting with flavor...
plump,
juicy,
and sweet,
recalling the
memories of every strawberry
I have ever eaten.
Each one at their succulent
peak for a day,
before the process of
decomposition begins,
still edible, certainly,
but no longer
exactly perfect.
Early June, and the wood thrush
bestows his
long-awaited,
ethereal,
haunting melody
upon all who have ears.
Soon, however, when this year's
breeding is complete, his
voice will still, and in
silence will he forage and
flit through the trees.
In three months, he
will be gone.
Bees on the foxgloves,
newly-fledged chickadees chattering in the apple tree,
fragrance of mown hay and the mock orange,
bluebird sipping from the ant moat on the hummingbird feeder,
simple, simple noticings that ground my days.
Into what is this moment inviting you?
Be open.
Pay attention.
The Holy is beckoning.
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