This morning I looked out the window as I poured myself another cup of coffee. I saw a robin perched on the grotto fence. That was an unusual sight, because robins don't normally "perch" so much as hop along the ground looking for grubs and what-have-you. Plus, I thought robins had already headed south for the winter. They migrate from Kansas, I think.
I poured my cup of coffee, and walked into the mudroom, where I glanced out that window to see a bunch of robins, all huddled around my little garden pond. They were in want of water.
So sad. It is so dry here. Later in the morning I collected a couple of shallow pans and took them out into the yard and filled them with water. Poor birds.
It reminded me of the hymn His Eye is on the Sparrow.
And today, November 7th, I am thankful because I know He watches me.
1 comment:
I like this: His eye on the sparrow.
The most painful line for me in Joan Didion's THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING, was when she says, "No one watches the sparrow fall."
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