Sometimes an unexpected coolness comes
in the late days of August,
a fine light breeze out of the north
that calls you to the porch for morning coffee
and a lingering bit of conversation—
something that feels like vacation.
An afternoon in the low eighties
when you’re used to mid nineties
can seem like a fine thing, too,
and you might find yourself working in the sun
just because you can without feeling too overdone.
When evening comes
and the sun begins to settle in behind the hills,
there’s a chance you will find something soothing
in those long, late shadows
that stretch across the gravel lane beside the soybeans,
stretching clear across the field,
so far that you can see
the defining shape of a tree
cast against the steep bank of the railroad
a quarter-mile away.
In the folding comfort of a good day well-ended,
may you find your own thoughts
blended with the peace of a high, single cloud,
easing its delicate, thin traces across the sky.
May you lie back with a murmured sigh,
“Thank you, Lord, for this good day.
For strength to work,
for food and drink,
clothes for the wearing,
and the comforting nearness of your own Spirit,
as refreshing as a cool day in August.”