Silo hollers.  Circular echo, bouncing from the grain to the twain and back again. Pollinated sunrise, with each dew filled drop sneezing itself skyward.  Stern hands and skin like sand working dawn to dusk with burlap and husk.  If you stand still you rust, so nothing stops moving, breaking new ground, every move a new sound of something soon to be life aplenty.  Gentle displays of winks and nods the peas and the pods, birds fly bye in squads chasing the wind with their fantails.  Jars of sweet jam, the kids shouted scram cause the cat was stalking chickens like Kimba.

Down near the creek got a kiss on the cheek and felt the surety of hand hold in love.  Thanked the Good Lord above because it was more than enough, when you sleep from a day in abundance.  Still in a trance, do the wood floor sock dance and try not to crash into cupboards.  When is a thing, something more than a sting or a bite or a nibble or taste?  Nothing goes to waste round here, pants are handed down, every frown is turned upside down and sore backs don’t seem so tight when they’re working.  A colorful sky.  Crimson, tourmaline and sawdust flashing kernels of green apple and marmalade.  Where would you be but right here?

What a comfortable spot on my knees by the footlocker at the bottom of my cot, a foam cushion to give me the time to spend in prayer.  I first think out loud, then as time passes into night I find that quiet place waiting on God’s Whisper.  And almost at dream, eternity it seems the peace comes upon me in a hush.  Forcing sound from my ears and drying up all my tears, telling me that God has been watching throughout.  Standing to shout, don’t know what the heck that’s about, a steeplechase rider at gun start.  Then I hear Him tell me to settle.  I return to repose, my face flattened nose against the canvas my mind a fresh easel.  The seasons pass bye in the wink of an eye and I’m standing against winds that are frozen.  Chosen it seems and called in my dreams to weather winter’s discontent with a smile and a fresh pile of wood that I’ve been stacking all year.

The end is always nearer than we wish it be.  No time for misstep or folly.  Though jolly in my fight, there is reason to get it right, before the signal sounds end to the scoring. Laying my simple head down her snoring the sound that rocks me gently toward the edge of all thinking.  And I recall it all, the sights, nights, fights and squirrels that made today like none other.  For a moment I glimpse a terrace in the shade where I am chatting with my Father and Mother.  Then I recall, that I will see them at the ball that follows being served by the Bridegroom.  As I hang on to the day before its gone, suddenly tomorrow forces its way into the room.  And thoughts of tomorrow become present and the pleasant smell of hazelnut and half burnt toast though joyful come just a little too soon.  I sit and I laugh for a minute and a half before making my claim on today.  I pick up the Word to reflect on what I’ve heard and look forward to what next He will say.

Thank You Jesus.