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.