Summer Days

Before the air conditioner,

At night your Mom said, “Do not stir”,

The air so humid sheets would wick,

And, to your little limbs would stick.

Now, as a child you’d simply pray,

A summer breeze might come your way,

To gently move the air within,

And, cool the moisture on your skin.

Rememb’ring back when on the porch,

The fireflies; their tail-lit torch,

And, Moms would find the coolest spot,

To lay their children; tired and hot.

These sweltering days upon us run

The longer hours; relentless sun,

The crop matures in emerald field,

We thank the Lord for bounteous yield.

Now, hailing back those summer days,

When we full met the sunshine’s rays,

We knew that we were in God’s hands,

He made the breeze, the rains, the lands.

May we this Sunday; day of rest,

Remember well the One who blessed,

As we move toward the harvest store,

May we praise God for evermore!

Peter Lowell Paulson

July 1, 2018