the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out unto all the earth;
their words to the end of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom, coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes it's circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of it's warmth.
May the words of my mouth
and the meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
and my redeemer. from Psalm 19. Pics taken on a Sunday drive through Southern Oregon.