During summer walks I’m often stopped by fragrances, by eruptions of fresh colors, and by swirls of energy that quicken my psyche.

In the next block blooms a mimosa tree, its pink brush-shapes fancifully sweeping the cobalt sky; its sweetness perfuming the air; its feathery lime-green branches rippling upon breezes. I pause. I listen to the stillness. Delight infuses my senses and enlarges my world.

Days pass.

An afternoon squall collapses the blossoms, until dried out by the sun, their pink-splendor restored.

More days pass. Aproned around the tree are the beginnings of spent blossoms decomposing upon the grass. Yet the heady fragrance still invites communion.

Such largesse bespeaks a power that provides these displays from late May through July, every year.

Such is the love of Creator-God for us.

 

 

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