Morning

I woke up this morning feeling rough.
Ate some cereal but that weren’t enough.
I slouched in my chair,
And my TV was there
To help fill my mind with fluff.

A Vacant House

A sunflower grows by a windowsill.
And nearby nests a whip-poor-will.
A vacant house that hosted generations
Weathers, as summer passes. 

Aspiration

Benny bought a banjo to learn to play,
And he bought fancy duds and some hairspray.
He wanted to star
And drive a fancy car,
But he soon sold the banjo on eBay.

Baroque

Jan truly cherished her fancy things.
She loved jewelry boxes and diamond rings.
Her taste was Rococo,
But mostly Baroque,
And that’s how she ended up — Baroque broke.

Rain

Summer clouds threaten with rain.
Dark air thickens with moisture, again.
Trees stand ready for a downpour,
And the Enoree River looks longingly to the heavens,
From which it draws its strength.

Who

Our younger daughter once said to me,
“Dad, you’re who your friends say you are.”
I guess she was thirteen,
Not old enough to drive a car.
“No,” I said. “You’re who God says you are.”
Soon, she was grown
And had moved away . . . 
Away, pretty far.

The New Pew Review

Sunday comes for shut-ins too,
Those who can’t do what they used to do.
Some watch TV to glean
Truths from pastors seen.
They listen from an “electronic pew.”

Jesus, Take the Wheel, If . . .

“Jesus, Take the Wheel” is a nice song.
But if you left Him by a curb, what’s wrong?
Don’t run off a cliff,
Or end up as a stiff,
Before you wish He’d ridden along.

The 4th

Harold got him some beef and fired up his grill.
“Don’t forget taters!” his wife said, right shrill.
Their kids and grandkids drove in to eat.
Freedom didn’t miss a beat.
But freedom isn’t free, someone said.
We owe a debt to many, living or dead —
Brave folk who paid, or are paying, freedom’s bill. 

Our Father Who Art on Earth

“Our father who art on earth,” they said.
“Let us honor you before you’re dead.”
They embraced the old man
As tears down his cheek ran,
And resentments from years ago fled.

The Old Man Turned Off the Radio

The old man turned off the radio,
But he didn’t say, “Where’d all the old tunes go?”
No, he said, “It’s time to pray.”
And sitting in his chair, he voiced a prayer.

First, he gave God adoration,
And then, he prayed for our nation:
“Lord, make this a land that ’t’is of Thee’;
Help it stay brave and keep it free.

“We’ve wandered in sin’s wilderness,
And seems like things are in a mess.
Lord, forgive us of our sins.
Don’t let us become just ‘has-beens’.

“Forgive me for sounding uptight.
Thank you for things that are going right.
Thank you for my family and blessings aplenty.
Help the many folk who don’t have any.
I thank you, Lord, for taking our blame,
For dying in our place, in Jesus’ Name. Amen.”

The old man gazed through a window nearby,
Then rose from his chair, and, with a sigh,
Remembered these words to an old song:
“God answers prayer in the morning.
God answers prayer at noon.
God answers prayer in the evening,
So, keep your heart in tune.”

The old man turned off the radio,
But he didn’t say, “Where’d all the old tunes go?”
No, he said, “It’s time to pray.”