The sun spills through bare branches, streaking its way across the corn stalks, alighting in the grove of trees, illuminating what lies hidden in summer–trunks reaching heavenward, shining in simplicity this clear morning, a silent reminder that He is the vine–beautiful, steadfast and true, and we are the branches, destined to bear fruit as long as we remain in Him.

Father, this day, as surely as the sun shines, illuminate my mind and heart, and guide me by your Spirit. Amen

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