Standing like a silent becon the ancient tree rises up to touch the sky. When I was a child this hilltop was pasture land. I can remember seeing the cattle gathered under it’s branches to shelter from the sun or the short summer rain shower. At other times dense blocks of hay formed a dotted line that followed the contour of the landscape. These big old trees have always been a draw for my eyes and even today one the lower branches seems to be waving hello. I imagine that the tree is inviting us to come and sit beneath it’s branches and enjoy the soft breeze as we listen for the voice of God. We climb to top of the hill and sit in cool grass. Close your eyes for a moment and lift your face to feel the warm rays of the sun. Can you hear it? That still small voice speaking peace to your soul?
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