Autumn on a Misty Morning

Just east of Wolf River,
a bit after the highway
begins its long slope down
and right before the last gravel
on this side of the ridge,
there’s a small pasture
on the hill
between the road and the gully.

The grass makes a smooth vee
leading down to the ditch,
incredibly green in the low sheen
of an overcast morning.

At its edge, a scruffy patch of sumac
throws a break of crimson
edging the ragged bank.
A dozen shades of prairie grass
cast their colors
between the bare tans of dirt
and the skirt of trees
with their black trunks
and spreading of leaves
with a lifting of yellows and greens.

On the opposite side of the ditch,
sixty acres of soybeans
show the seams of drought,
brown splotches wrapped around
scattered blotches of green
in the low places that held more rain
after the few times it came.

Even in the dry times,
lives that find
some good source,
deep and steady,
will stand ready to bear
some good color
of God’s good grace,
ready to face the harvest.

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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