Stopped to watch the water, enamored with the rolling sound against quiet pebbles honed. Whispering wings against my ear, insects curious to establish new home or find food left in my beard. All is right and though dangerously true the primary result is still marching forward.

At peace in the middle of rainy winter. Prepared against the chills of the icy wind and wet, I make my perch on a freshly cut stump hardened by freezing. What things I have forgotten or missed present themselves to welcome eyes as if this is the first and last time they are seeing.

The crunch of life’s sound reminds me that the ground is firm beneath my footing. In confident stride I seek the middle of the valley where the last of falls pleasure escaped the frost’s first coming. In congruent to nothing the forest accepts me as though I have something grand to add.

No sweat or regret as the perpendicular has become parallel. Without reason firm in the feeling, I navigate the wind and stream to find the sweetest spot for sampling. All things were given unto men, yet we strive to make them ourselves. Lost my foolish understanding I am amazed at my awakening.

What willing foe would find me in God’s planting? What gifts would I give up now that I have discovered their deployment? How long will a fool await God’s pleasure? How long will a man of wealth and wisdom remain seated? What is the motivation of our hearts, and to which voice our response?