Levels

This weekend we drove to a nearby country park.  It was quiet and apart from a few dog walkers and cyclists we had the place to ourselves. 

As soon as we were parked and out of the car we noticed the housemartins on the wing very low over the open meadow.  We sat for a while by the little lake where some ducks and moorhens were dabbling about and then went up a slight incline to an overgrown field.  Thistledown drifted across the furrows in the breeze.  Grasshoppers, disturbed by our footsteps, leapt for safety into the grass.  Butterflies drifted in and out of the brambles.  High in the sky fluffy white clouds were blown in from the west. 

All lived and moved in and through the unseen air at their own level from the chirruping grasshoppers to the ducks quacking as they splashed down, from the ephemeral butterflies to the ever-changing clouds; from dogs let off the lead scampering about to cyclists freewheeling down the slope with the wind in their faces. 

The ever-moving air supports and sustains us.  "Let everything that has breath, praise the LORD." (Psalm 150)