A farm forum, ready to convene just for me. A choir of frogs sing praise from a small pond out back in the middle of February. They pass their invitation to join the preliminaries of song; their funny prelude to the discussion-- the discovery.
A forum of land and sky calling a morning meeting, preparing for a rousing discussion for a searcher and seeker! How have I attained such good fortune to be invited among such wise handlers of divine secrets?
I stand among the furry-wise who take their places at their own gates, live their good lives, sowing and reaping just what they were perfected to. Minding their own business. One calls the meeting to order with a “baaa!” I take my seat among them.
A magnificent forum of farm and feeling, of astute players all knowing their place. OH! I hear a pony pounding his gavel down, with fine hooves he calls this session to order. I humbly join the meeting, pen in hand.