As I sit front row amongst an abundance of lushness I accompany a congregation filled with long-term friends. The holy ghost is in Canis latrans. Taxidea taxus isn't really diggin' it. Mephitis mephitis came into service smelling a bit reckless. Procyon lotor is all over Lynx rufus's shoulder. Castor canadensis just don't give a ****. Neotoma cinerea haven't said a peep and Glaucomys sabrinus is the flyest I've seen in weeks. The tunes that the Warblers are singing is sweet, with the Hawks hitting notes all the way to the peak and you know the Great Horned Owl cadence had to be deep. The gospel put all California Poppy, Star Tulip and Western Pennyroyal to sleep. Now everyone quiet down, all I hear is the river and the wind, patiently waiting for Giant Sequoia to speak. Drum roll please? Pileated Woodpecker knows the perfect beat. The deepest sermon goes unspoken. Nature is the religion and the earth is church. Praises to God for his Kingdom translating his words.