Lily Pads and Frogs

I sat with my iPad this morning, visiting social media and other sites of inconsequentiality, for well over an hour.  When I finally turned off my device and looked around, I noticed that it had rained. I went outside and sat on the porch. I had just visited a virtual world; a lost world devoid of nature.

As I sat exposed to the natural world, I saw birds, and plants and trees. I felt the wind and I smelled the petrichor from the rain. I saw the sun peek through the clouds. I saw mockingbirds drinking from the wet earth, then heard them sing a marvelous medley of tunes while the wind joined in and played the chimes in my yard in pleasant harmony. Some leaves, felled by the rain, spiraled in a small wind vortex. The natural world greeted my monitor weary eyes, and welcomed my senses to a refreshing measure of peace. A moment returned to the allure of a humble then, before the technological separation of man and God.   

The alert sound on my smart phone jingled as I sat there. I suppose that they want me to refinance my home, or purchase an extended warranty on everything, or someone wants to chat about nothing. I did not answer. The doves started to coo; they have a nest in the bushes nearby.  

How nice it would be to go to the country, into the ravine, and play. Play with sticks, in streams, by the riverside. How fun it would be to slide down the hill on a cardboard box, or swim in the pond with the lily pads and frogs; and laugh. I want to laugh at the frogs that laugh at me. I’d like to munch on some wild clover. I want to be home by the time the street lights go on. I want to catch fireflies.

I fear for the future of life. I worry about the life of youth.

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