Glorious Days

I am pleasantly situated in the early morning hour on my side porch. It rained throughout the night and the dampness hangs like a sheer curtain in the air, softening songs, sounds, and sensations. I breathe in the heavy air sweetened by blooms all around. This will surely be a part of heaven. (Said, of course, in my very human, very limited understanding.)

Ah! I revel in the simple, yet complex beauty of sound, sight, and fragrance. Perfection.

Suddenly there is a shift. The raucous "caw caws" of a large black bird breaks the tranquility, a reminder that perfection is not true here, in this place, in this time. The birds' songs still, the mood becomes somber in recognition of danger. The heavy air takes on an even heavier aura. Sin has touched even their simple world.

Someday we will live in perfect peace. He will reign in every place. The lion will lie down with the lamb. And even the raucous call of large black birds will bring no sense of impending danger.

O, what a glorious day that will be!