Christ In Summer

pexels-photo-207247.jpegHe plays, naked, upon the field

On a midsummer Sunday morning

the Christ-child, or child-man

Clothed in the warbled hymns and tears of His people

In gratitude.

He dwells at home with beat of butterfly wing and wind of bird

Races the doe and buck and fawn,

Carousing with Fox and Coyote, past placid cows who long have known His name.


He revels in the dirt-mystery of the world He made

Bathing in the stream that can still be found flowing over, around and through the hues of stained glass window and worn pew

And He lets me see him there

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