“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12:7-10)
On A Hot Summer’s Day
On a hot summer’s day in the shade I’m just sittin’.
I don’t feel much today like countin’ all the costs.
Today it’s very hot, but on this day I am not.
I’ve been blessed with this gentle breeze that is blowin’.
I thank You Lord for this mighty old oak tree,
For it is shieldin’ me from the sun’s hot summer rays.
On a day like today, I prefer to just sit here relaxin’.
I marvel as the branches of this old friend dance and sway,
But those birds way up high in God’s sky,
They keep on flyin’ in their deathly circles.
Them ol’e buzzards, they seem intent to keep on searching.
They appear to be waitin’…maybe for divine direction,
For that day my hands have written their final verses.
I see my precious Mama peerin’ out the window of our cabin.
She’s watchin’ me and the only world that she knows.
She’s put away all her fears after all of her ninety-two years.
Her memory now is goin’ a lot more often that it’s comin’.
Oh, how she loves the view of these Cedar Lake Woods.
The squirrels and the birds and the rabbits are her habits,
But she loves “Havin’ Church” with me the most, she says.
Havin’ Church is what she calls when I read her what I’m writin’.
For her habits, she always has a good word.
Her habits also seem to have a good word for her.
She has another word for them circlin’ buzzards,
But that word on here I can’t be repeatin’.
She taught me well as a youngin’ with the soap I was tastin’,
That word from my lips she better never ever be hearin’.
On most days I try to keep this body movin’,
But today just ain’t one of those days.
Over time I have learned when my body says “no”,
It is senseless to continue with my arguin’.
Me and my precious Mama have a pact with the Lord.
As long she’s at her post able to keep up her watchin’
And my old friend God gave me keeps on givin’ me His shade,
Them buzzards will just have to keep on with their searchin’.
You see…Mama ain’t through with her workin’ on me yet,
And the Good Lord He still has much to do with my growin’.
Ever since at age five when God gave her the gift of me,
When a natural blessin’ never came to her like she was expectin’,
God knew how to make the perfect Mama just for me.
He made me the Mama and He gave her the son we both had been missin’.
I’m up most nights now as sound sleep is often hidin’.
With my rebellious body, it’s getting harder to find.
Many tears are shed in the night shared alone,
For there’s much to grieve in this heart that I’m hidin’.
So many from the faith they are fallin’,
And so much of what is wrong is now called right.
Instead of countin’ sheep I now just count my blessins’.
I keep lookin’ for the Good Shepherd’s keepin’,
But I’m like a stranger unto my own self.
One who’s been away from home for a very long time.
I keep a light on each and every night for him,
With the hope that one day his home he will be findin’.
Sometimes I wonder if this stranger ever will,
But the Lord He tells me…why can’t you read the signs I’m providin’.
I don’t worry much anymore, except for the rhymin’,
For I now know just where this lonely stranger stands.
I have God’s great love and I have His mighty hand,
And that’s all I need to keep on faithfully fightin’.
I no longer take this thing called grace for granted.
I now come to Him I always should have…Empty handed.
I’ve learned a valuable lesson here on this hot summer’s day.
Life rarely goes just how you’ve been expetin’.
All works to the good for my Mama’s at the window still peerin’,
This old oak tree is still givin’ me God’s shade,
And them buzzards they’ve decided to be movin’ on.
I guess today won’t be the day I get to see glory comin’.
I’ll be content just to sit here in total awe of Him.
I wonder at His wonders and that with joy He keeps me singin’.
On a hot summer’s day!
Ron C. Kyker