The dawn wakes me with the sounds of a cooing dove calling out a gospel of love and the bobwhite responds by sounding its name as if to place it first on the list of the ones needing to hear. A choir of sopranos from a winged ensemble sing a chorus with the words, “I am next in that line. I need to hear it!”. The sky is painted translucent heavenly crystal white through which I observe the newly plowed field with small planted crop in long straight lines forecasting the bountiful harvest. It will come soon enough. Framed by a moist green lawn specked with little clover blooms, a yellowed back black bee is hovering over lavender in the flower bed. It’s path is crossed by the blur of a hummingbird suckling with delight. A spectacular canvas of beauty encircles me. The blanket of fog with a lite mist of new spring water kisses my face bringing comfort on a chilled morning. A pleasant breeze threatens the prospect of seeing the sun; but no sun is needed in the presence of the Lord (Revelation 21:23). Against elegant creation’s sketch, His glory rises to overshadow so that when the sun does rise, it doesn’t matter.