Yesterday I was writing here and I glanced out the window, to be given a gift: a hummingbird was sipping at the yellow dahlias beneath the window frame. I could almost have reached out and touched her. I felt so blessed, by the summer, by the many gifts of the garden, by time with loved ones, by the sense of light enveloping my heart. I hope that each of you reading this will pause for a small moment and give thanks for something in your life, no matter how tiny, perhaps even hummingbird size, that brings you joy.

There is a prayer in the Baha'i writings which returns to me often, and in which there is a line that offers me the most beautiful images. I will quote it for you in its entirety but put the line I am thinking of in bold face:

Intone, O My servants, the verses of God that have been received by thee,
as intoned by them who have drawn nigh unto Him,
that the sweetness of thy melody may kindle thine own soul,
and attract the hearts of all men. Whoso reciteth, in the privacy of his chamber,
the verses revealed by God, the scattering angels of the Almighty
shall scatter abroad the fragrance of the words uttered by his mouth,
and shall cause the heart of every righteous man to throb.
Though he may, at first, remain unaware of its effect, yet the virtue
of the grace vouchsafed unto him must needs sooner or later exercise
its influence upon his soul. Thus have the mysteries of the Revelation
of God been decreed by virtue of the Will of Him
Who is the Source of power and wisdom.

I love the idea of angels taking the words of prayer, of joy, of fragrance, and 'scattering them' everywhere they are needed, unbound by the limitations of time and space, or of body. In my fancies, sometimes birds are like these angels. Yesterday while walking at the marina I gathered a feather, most likely from a gull. I know these are scavenger birds, I know that some people don't like them much, but I find them lovely, accompanied in my mind's eye with scenes of beauty over water. Each bird has its habitat, the place where it offers its beauty in long migrations; perhaps angels are like this, too, with our prayers. Soaring.

A feather, found, is a prayer. Love over water.