Ever felt an angel’s breath in the gentle breeze?
A teardrop in the falling rain?
Hear a whisper amongst the rustle of leaves?
Or been kissed by lone snowflake?
Nature is an angel’s favorite hiding place.
~Carrie Latet, poet

And hiding this morning, as in Latet’s lines, were the three in this photo.  Though not totally obscured from view they were definitely tucked away deep within their foliage.  It was as if they were trying to determine whose feet trod near before sharing their comeliness.  Determined to capture the moment, I went in search of ways to get in close enough for photographs.  After I found them and took some shots, I moved on in search of what else the day might be proffering.  As I did, the day’s feel reminded me more and more of Latet’s lines as well as one written by American poet, Richard Purdy Wilbur.  At some point in his life he had felt that “outside the open window the morning air was all awash with angels,” and that was exactly what I was discovering in my garden that morning.  The sweltering heat had kept me inside for weeks, and I needed so to get out to dig in the soil and putter in my garden.  So I’d gone out very early in the morning to do so before it got too terribly hot.  Once outside I became aware almost immediately of sacred presences in my yard.  Actually the Angel’s Trumpet, the morning glories, and I seemed to be there merely as witnesseses meant to lift up hymns of praise in their honor, and oh so willing was I to do that.  In a world where discomfort, ugliness, and strife run rampant, one must celebrate the divinely-inspired moments designed to transcend the nastiness and bring back into view God’s throne of goodness and grace.  Oh gentle breath of heaven, thank You, for filling my heart today.

When he arrived and saw the evidence of the grace of God, he was glad and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts.  ~Acts 11:23