Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you. The swollen brook nearly disappears beneath the burgeoning green, the woods thicken lustily, sweating, songs in a hundred languages throng the air, wildflowers reach into their green pockets, pulling out purple, a strong-armed flock finishes its four thousand miles, and in the water they take their bows, a confetti of bugs celebrates noisily, blue and black and brown and happy, a heron lifts off the pond on its cloud of wings, things swarm and swell and reach and hatch, becoming new and truly amazing.
From far away you can't tell all this is happening, like you can't always see from the outside the mighty billowing inside you, the immense spring, the roots that crack the stone, the greening that will eventually take the city.
Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve
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