Sitting in the yard as the sky transitions from twilight into night – the bridge of conversation and quiet watching between us – we  never cease to be amazed as an owl bridges the space from house to oak, then from oak to owl box.


Mountains in front of us bridge the horizon from east to west.



Watching, we see the North Star directly above the owl box, the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia bleeding their reflected light into the darkening sky; stars bridging the sky as far as we can see.

Blinking lights – white, green, red – reveal the path of planes as they bridge the spaces between the stars, seeming to knit them together with invisible thread to hold the universe.

A bridge – a transition – between the seen and unseen = faith.

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