Front Porch Poem: 6-25-16



Lawnmowers buzz and whir gently
underneath the calls of my neighbors
who laugh to one another
in the blue morning
cool before the blistering
summer sun breaks through

I hear a few children giggling
out of sight
a man sing-calling out
to his fellow-man
who he must love
as I love them both

what hopes stir in these men
sweating upon the earth this early
toward a more beautiful home?

what light reflects on their unseen faces
up on that half-finished roof
dreaming up the new day?

who am I to sit here in such peace,
among a people as fine
and as true as these

and what words of mine could ever match
their God-given voices
or the music of their swinging hammers?


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