A Better Praise

There is an almost eerie stillness in this morning’s early dawning;
not the slightest bit of stirring among the leaves and blades.
In the low light barely past night,
I walk out onto the porch, shoeless and shirtless.

There is a hint of coolness in the air
but the concrete that connects garage to street
feels warm against my feet.

A robin tilts down to the bare ground beneath the elm.
Wary but hungry he hops across the drive
toward whatever it is that robins find in the grass
until a bluejay dives down and chases him away.

In spite of the stillness, there is barely a hint of dew
in the mat of Bermuda grass that cushions my steps
as I lift the clump of dead branches from last week’s pruning
and lay them into the back of Randa’s truck.

I look around again at the shapes of crepe myrtles and maples,
yellowing blades and withered blooms of iris against the fence.
Soaking up the softness of this mid-summer morning,
I am hoping to carry its peace within me against the scorching heat.
I feel I could stand in this simple beauty for days
but it seems that we are made for duty.

From a half-mile away,
the rippling rumble of railroad cars just starting to move
spreads through the morning
then passes into silence.

I will do what I can to help bring goodness
into this good day,
and thereby offer a better praise
to the One who has made it.

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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