This morning’s call to worship is the a capella of doves accompanied by the chant of jays. They have an affinity for going on and on and on, and insist I keep my seat. This morning’s reading is taken from the now testament – aspen leaves trembling, the rising and falling of beagle chest, another coal train cutting daylight. Thanks be to God. This morning’s message is exhortation: thou shalt not be mimsy. In light of Sabbath’s wordless invitation a miserable and flimsy day would miss the mark, what we used to call sin. This morning’s communion is coffee and blueberries mugged and bowled on a kitchen table that’s seen ten years now, a rounded altar of time. This morning’s benediction is the rabbit’s rapid genuflect, furred splendor across the grass. Go in peace. Watch for hawks. Serve the Lord.