The swallows are having a field day,
They fly both to and fro,
They can't believe the feast they have!
Do I project my glow
On such a summer's eve
On birds that have no sense?
Or do we both know in some way
(Not sitting on the fence)
How absolutely blessed we are,
Like quaking aspens there
Who shake not just because the breeze
The cool of evening bears,
But overjoyed God sets the earth
On its foundations sure,
While birds, and one now watching
Find we're fed by grace assured?
Scott L. Barton
[There's a reference here to Psalm 104, but I didn't want to wait until October, 2015 to post it :)]