I woke early this morning, listening to the birds outside my window.  They perch on high pine branches or in the brushy low branches of shrubs, calling to one another.  Their eagerness to mate creates a morning song as lovely as those in the Psalms.  Once I had a houseguest who told me she had to shut her bedroom window, “Those birds kept screeching!” she said. What I heard as a song, she heard as noise.  I wonder what others hear when I speak?  Do they hear music in my voice or only noise?  Please, Lord, may I speak of your love with the voice of a nightingale so others may learn of the good news; may my actions not be heard as unpleasant screeching that contradict my love for you. Amen.