In the chill of late February, on our patch of Ozark land,
the only things that appear to be blooming are a few delicate snowdrops.
Saturday's sunshine pried open the petals.
Was it the fragrance, wafting on the breeze, that woke the slumbering honeybees?
Hovering honeybees
find a snowdrop's siren song
irresistible.
How many are your works, O Lord!
In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.
All creatures look to you to give them their food at the proper time.
When you give it to them, they gather it up;
when you open you hand,
they are satisfied with good things.
