Monday Meditation: Seeing Through the Proper Lens

I woke up Saturday morning and took a picture of the first sunrise of spring. Cameras can never do justice to our experience, no matter how technologically advanced they are. What you don't see here is the steam rising up from the ground, creating a foggy atmosphere that was simply delightful. Life is a lot like that, my friends. These online encounters are wonderful, but never let them replace a walk in the woods, digging in the dirt, and listening to the music of the birds and frogs as they welcome the new season.

When Spring Goes By

Duncan Campbell Scott

The winds that on the uplands softly lie,

Grow keener where the ice is lingering still

Where the first robin on the sheltered hill

Pipes blithely to the tune, "When Spring goes by!"

Hear him again, "Spring! Spring!" He seems to cry,

Haunting the fall of the flute-throated rill,

That keeps a gentle, constant, silver thrill,

While he is restless in his ecstasy.

Ah! the soft budding of the virginal woods,

Of the frail fruit trees by the vanishing lakes:

There's the new moon where the clear sunset floods,

A trace of dew upon the rose leaf sky;

And hark! what rapture the glad robin wakes-

"When Spring goes by; Spring! Spring! When

Spring goes by.