Evidence

They live among us. Chirping, chasing, fighting, playing.

Perfectly oblivious to our presence unless we threaten their nest in the spring.

I was photographing the foothills one summer morning when a bird landed on a dead snag just ahead of me. I hurried to make the photograph.

I finished, and the bird stayed.

Where did you sleep?

Who are your friends?

What will you do today?

Why do you sing?

I gathered my tripod, hoisted it onto my shoulder, and saluted my little friend.

No answer. Just a twist of the head, and a twist back. Stoic in the summer morning air.

What else do you require to know there is a God?