In the afternoons,
in the almost empty fields,
I hum the hymns
I used to sing
in church.
They could not tame me,
so they would not keep me,
alas,
and how that feels,
the weight of it,
I will not tell
any of you,
not ever.
Still, as they promised,
God, once he is in your heart,
is everywhere –
so even here
among the weeds
and the brisk trees.
How long does it take
to hum a hymn? Strolling
one or two acres
of the sweetness
of the world,
not counting
a lapse, now and again,
of sheer emptiness.
Once a deer
stood quietly at my side.
And sometimes the wind
has touched my cheek
like a spirit.
Am I lonely?
The beautiful, striped sparrow,
serenely, on the tallest weed in his kingdom,
also sings without words.
-Mary Oliver 
Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young— a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. ~Psalm 84:3 ✝
**Images via Pinterest and the Internet; collage by Natalie
Sacred Touches 