Against the winter sepia, the cock pheasant’s plumage is
vibrant, glorious. He struts carefully up the driveway as soon as the coal
truck has gone. He sweeps into the yard every day, at least once, to check out
the seed which has fallen from the hanging bird feeders and see if any new
breadcrumbs litter the tarmac.
Life isn’t easy in the frozen north, but as the landscape
fades into monochrome, the pheasant keeps its bright colours.
This morning I
breathe deep, inhaling God’s love and life and presence, so that whatever sepia
world I may walk through, others will see the glory of our loving Father.
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