theme thursday - mystery

It is a mystery to me how, with the first drops of rain, the barren desert flowers



how the velvet on a butterfly's wing will withstand buffeting on the air and yet fragment at a finger's touch



how the barn owl hunts - seeing with her ears



how the tide knows to come in



and go out




how clouds are so beautiful



Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

Pied Beauty - Gerard Manley Hopkins