Critters

I'm sitting on the patio on a gorgeous late spring day. Trevor the Bearded Dragon basks in the real sun (his heat lamps suffice, but barely). The guinea pigs, Pigeon and Obi Wan, snuggle into the cool grass, eating at will. Kitty the dog roams, causing Trevor to puff out his beard and the pigs to freeze until she ambles over to lie sighing at my feet. I type. Nearby, on the playground, little voices shout "Come and get me," giggling. Trees dance in the breeze, whispering and shushing. Traffic hums along; people have places to go, especially home. Marvelous. Life. I don't deny that it has its cruel side. The insects' lives are short in Trevor's vicinity. Wars rage. Abuse continues. Children go to bed hungry. Unwanted babies come into being. Addicts numb themselves, dealers provide others with desolation. Is it wrong to praise God when so much is lamentable? Is it wrong to glory in beauty when my feet and words and presence might alleviate ugliness somewhere? It's time to cook supper, bring the creatures back inside where they are safe from predators. God, I sing your praise for all you have made. In my song, let me not forget those whose voices are silenced.