August Morning

Such dews as this

seem to come only in the heat of summer,

covering everything

that spends the night uncovered.


The cars seem to have been rained on

and the brome so soaked

that you couldn’t take a dozen steps

before your shoes are wet clear through;

even leather taking its full measure

of night air turned liquid

by the cooling.


Horses eating this grass

pass the whole morning

without turning back up toward the house

and the water trough.


There are some things

that bring us more than the one thing

it seems that we are doing:

work that refreshes and blesses

the laborer,

prayer that praises

more than it asks,

love that fills us

even as it is poured out

and forgiving

that cleanses both the sinner

and the one sinned against.



H. Arnett


About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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