Summer Sunday Any Year
So many standard features haven’t gone according to plan
However today may have been different or a coincidence
Against the deep blue morning summer sky green leaves
And buzzing bumble bees on top of the flowers of tall trees
In the wind through an open window of the old church music
Hits his consciousness and he is familiar with the tune and
Conjured feelings of relaxation in surrendering your heart
to
Higher degrees of living knowledge and pure love to heal
minds,
Hands, intent of a sinner or someone flirting with the devil’s
path
An older man bald at the top of his head revealing patchy
sun spots
Weathered like the shell of a snapping turtle moving slowly
in the sun
His long lean suited legs climb the steps and he pulls open
the red doors
The man’s attitude exudes the mission of service to the Lord
this day
As morning shows promise of an unraveled great afternoon,
life is only
Percolating yet in this sleepy valley with waking stirs,
shaking dreams
With a television broadcasting the refreshing perkiness of
the new anchor
In homes and businesses offering coffee, French toast, pork
sausage & eggs
Outside the church in the brick side street there’s no smell
of breakfasts
Just the smell of a new day cleansed by the summer night’s
stormy rains
The music continues to play striking notes & chords opening
my heart with
Nostalgic wantonness rooted in rusted memory of a father’s
unconditional love
Summer Sunday any year, I guess I like it fine, so far –
lingering long on the street
Written Sunday Morning June 30, 2013 by John Alan Conte Jr.
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