Garden variety stream of consciousness...

I know we see but through a glass darkly but sometimes sometimes the darkly divides and we see clearly for the length of a breath or the twinkling of an eye and it was like that for me yesterday for a spot in time as I finished the four mile run breathing heavily with the score from August Rush rushing in my ears and I looked up and it was as if scales fell from my eyes to see really see the magpie hopping magnificently on the lawn kissed newly green from spring snows and his black and white was a white and black that pierced something deep in my side and gratitude mixed with gratitude spilled out and he hopped backdropped by young aspens all huddled in a group like ten year old girls giggling-just-can't-stand-still and these trees these virgin witnesses were like those planted firmly by the river whose streams make glad the city of God and the invisible wind that blows where it will rustled aspen leaves unseen but felt for I felt it too yes I did cooling the sweat on my face and arms and back and I shivered into confessed shock at the blue of the sky not robin egg blue or cerulean or any other hue in the 64 box but quite simply the blue blue of God ribboned with arrogant white clouds latticed one over the over like the crust of a dream pie and the pie in the sky was so vast that it threatened to swallow us all me the magpie the green green grass of home even the aspens such was the height and breadth and depth of this firmament and I felt small so very what is man that you are mindful of him small in all this but then in an exhale only a little lower than God himself for I was Adam splendid in the garden with the dew still on the world slack-jawed in bewonderment for morning had broken like the first morning and I was naked but not ashamed and I inhaled to drink it all in and just like that the darkly returned.