Thrasher's Call

The train of clouds that stretches ‘cross the skies, all gliding easily above the rippling green of tree and valley, field and mountainside— a verdant track unmatched by man’s machines— as on they rush, fueled only by the winds that whip the branches, spreading whispered awe at He who shakes - and shaped - their trunks and limbs, attentive in His leaf-craft to them all. The valley-making, cloud-designing King who shows His strength in hewing rock and plate, is He who pours His love to smallest things, who finds the leaf as lovely as the slate. What metric do I use when I assess which things most take God’s notice, and which things less?