How The Plump Dove Fluffs Its Feathers (among a few other observations)

Happy, happy halfway through January 2024!! Ps.145:9-10The Lord is good to all;  he has compassion on all he has made.All your works praise you, Lord;your faithful people extol you. How the plump dove fluffs its feathers with no need for looking glass... How, if we look, we find much to be tenderly thankful forHow a good book adds a touch of passion to commonplace chore...(more about below book How a cup of tea is like a gentle, pick-me-upper hug... How snow-stenciled scenery always gives my heartstring a tug... How the plump dove fluffs its feathers with no need for looking glassHow love’s sentimental tether binds the present to the pastHow spring, summer, fall and winter, Beauty cheers thought’s countenanceAnd how prayer’s flight is unhindered by season or circumstance How we are awed, sweetly speechless by Nature’s Grand OrchestraHow God teaches and beseeches mortal worship through its lawHow the creature is no match for the Creator; never wasNever will be; He is greater and deserves endless applause How the measure of God’s pleasure steals the show without contestHow each new day grants the treasure of a fresh and untried questHow laughter’s melodic mettle fills the air with seraphimHow the song of the tea kettle is my favorite kitchen hymn How, if we look, we find much to be tenderly thankful forHow a good book adds a touch of passion to commonplace choreHow a cup of tea is like a gentle, pick-me-upper hugHow snow-stenciled scenery always gives my heartstring a tug How in spite of so much sadness, gladness survives trouble’s gallHow, despite shape, height or status love is still One-size-fits-allHow a morning always rouses what has never been beforeMercy’s renewed summons wows us with God’s faithfulness once more How, the howl of younger hunger slowly but surely succumbsTo a wizened, humbler wonder satisfied to savor crumbsHow at last we learn the secret to happiness, fit for kingsNot in gimme-gimme-reaches, but in joy of simple things How, through loss we gain awareness of phrases like you-and-meCherishing the fragile rareness of fine words like ‘us’ and ‘we’How, here we are cradled briefly between two eternitiesOne, that concerns the Soul chiefly, one of Bygone centuries How an almost-poem’s tempo keens the poet’s appetiteHow ink-swirls compose mementos of rhythm and rhymed delightHow the Bard, kindly encumbered with God’s charge to dredge blurred deepsProbes the place where Ballad slumbers or Elusive Poem sleeps How the Finesse of Forever wakes us to the wealth of NowHow the howling gale of winter makes home palatial, somehowHow we chuckle while the weather throws tantrums that never lastHow the plump dove fluffs its feathers ready to face one more blast © Janet Martin (Below, the cardinal and Blue Jay pics are from my mother-in-law's house yesterday) How spring, summer, fall and winter, Beauty cheers thought’s countenance... Bird-watching bliss these days as the cold temps and snowy weather brings a feeding frenzy!