In the summer, surrounded by green, it's funny the things I can miss.
In the woods today, patches of moss catch my eye,
standing out bright against a muted background, softening rocks...
and tree trunks with their soft velvet.
Along the trail, small streams, born from last night's rain, sing their first song,
lifting their voices in chorus to praise their Maker.
A waterfall adds to the melody...
and spills its foam into the current.
The nearby velvet, saturated, drips out a percussion...
and even a bare winter woods becomes a cathedral.
The familiar path to the hollow is never the same twice,
but it is always full of wonder and beauty,
and with the little streams, we lift our hearts in praise.
Texture by Kim Klassen