My son and I sit in the soft light of fading day
and talk of other days to come:
plans for a John Prine weekend
and moving to Michigan from Texas
and how being told
that you’re doing a good job
of raising your kids
is a mighty fine compliment.

It’s hard to figure out
how time spent like this
could be done any better:
talking about things that matter
in an unhurried manner
in the closing hours
of an afternoon
of being together.

The long shadows
stretch well toward the coming night,
light eases into darkness,
and I turn on the lamp
in the adjoining room.
Other days will come soon enough
and for now I want gentle light,
something soft and warm,

Something that will help the forming
of this good day into memories
of better blessings:
time spent with simple food
in the good presence
of people I love
and time taken for sharing things
for which there is no salary.

In the company of good friends
and others that we love
there is something of eternity,
something of treasures that do not fade.
A place in which words are not traded
for some advantage over others,
but given for the giving,
each phrase a blessing

and each touch a gift of heaven,
a leavening of love
in a world often harsh
and cold.

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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