The Bible speaks of birds and lilies, the necessity of minding wilder things. Consider, then, the light trickling over the eastern rim, tracing honeyed fingers across the shorn fields, lifting starshine eyes to feathered song. Observe how it lingers mid-morning, then surges, wavering mouth gobbling up the land, interrupted only by cotton clouds and planes and, later, as the afternoon yawns, note the embrace of diffuse beams open-handed and beckoning. Then even