A pale sun hung in a sky of beaten silver as I drove in the morning rush hour.
The "rush hour" turned out not to be--anything but--it gave ample opportunity for staring at the world I passed by slowly.
A row of corn topped with rusty gold tassels stood on a high bank, silhouetted against the light blue sky, like a fringed Persian rug.
Bull rushes back lit by the morning sun, filled the ditches between the north and south lanes of Highway 404. It was a place of glory.
Returning home I took the back way through the country and saw signs for Balsam and Claremont and Myrtle--pretty, old fashioned names--and drove past more ditches resplendent with grasses, goldenrod, bull rushes--all fringed and fronded!
Corn fields on every hand, were busy whispering secrets to the wind.
And I was absolutely drunk with the beauty of the day.
Psalm 150 1-6
Hallelujah! Praise God in his holy house of worship,
praise him under the open skies;
Praise him for his acts of power,
praise him for his magnificent greatness;
Praise with a blast on the trumpet,
praise by strumming soft strings;
Praise him with castanets and dance,
praise him with banjo and flute;
Praise him with cymbals and a big bass drum,
praise him with fiddles and mandolin.
Let every living, breathing creature praise God!