The Meadow 55 I’ve given to this sweet faced, sway hipped Guernsey before you. Doesn’t her coat gleam, the liquid eyes, the transparent and lovely stretch of her ear? It’s in this light God, humbler than we’d guessed, kinder too—with both seriousness and a smile —runs his old hand along the haunch of our beasts, takes pleasure in the clean shape, and all the evil and hard words we’d feared, were only our own voice in the dark stall of our hearts, fed and watered with their heavy bucket of doubts. All the while, God’s judgement of our work is done with gentleness, pointing out the best parts saying, “My, fine animal you’ve brought. I bet this one took all your effort, I know, I’ve been there myself.” God telling us all the while what a good job we’ve done even if there are one or two others ahead of us in line.
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