I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Yea, on the glancing wing of eager birds, the softly pattering feet of furred and gentle beasts. I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Not borne on the morning's wings of majesty, but I have set My feet amidst the delicate and bladed wheat. I come in the little things, Saith the Lord.
-Evelyn Underhill

Monday, August 31, 2015

Sing Me To Sleep

Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?
~Oliver Wendell Holmes

When I was a child in Mississippi and I'd visit Mamaw and Papaw, katydids would sing me to sleep on a hot summer's night.  Windows left open I climbed into the feather bed, covered only by a light sheet.

The night did not frighten even though far out into the country on a lonely gravel road......the black sky, filled with stars; the breeze, cool; the sound of katydids to lull me to sleep.

To A Katydid
Little friend among the tree-tops
Chanting low your vesper hymns,
Never tiring,
Me inspiring,
Seated ’neath the swaying limbs,
Do you know your plaintive calling,
When the summer dew is falling,
Echoes sweeter through my brain
Than any soft, harmonic strain?


  1. The night sounds have been quite loud this summer. Even with air conditioning on and a fan also, I can hear them more this year than ever before. There must be millions of them outside our home. ♥

  2. I sure miss the sound with the AC on and the fan that I love to sleep beside. But whenever I'm out at night and hear them memories stir up so quickly.


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