Three folding lawn chairs
sit on the deck beneath the branches
of the maple tree, facing east.

We sat there yesterday morning
in the least heat
of the last Saturday in July.

The house blocked the noise of the traffic
and the trees along the lower bank
blocked the sight of neighbors.

There was a fine feel
in the unseasonable coolness
of October air sent into summer,

like the moving of the Spirit
in a soul sensing the nearness
of its exhaustion,

or a heart long heavy
with loss and sorrow,
pondering whether or not

a particular day
should even have
a tomorrow.

To such who seek Him,
whose findings do not come
by ease and good fortune,

the Maker sends such as this:
good friends on a lovely morning,
coffee forming tiny traces

of steamy vapor,
drifting away slowly in the shade
of a good summer day

that He has made.

H. Arnett
7/29/13