Longest Summer Day
Photo by Noah Herrera on Pixabay

Longest Summer Day

“be home when the streetlamps come on…”

You can live the longest summer day; and finally,

finally, past its

brightest, white-hot crest,

a twilight will commence.

And you, the running, smallest one,

with half-healed knees and tough, bare, dusty toes,

and bruise on shin or shoulder,

and slightly sunburned nose,

you’ll see the sky go amethyst, as streetlamps struggle on.

And as the dusk ascends

to deep ecclesial royal purple,

perhaps the barest breeze will tease or turn along your brow

and shiver dry the noonday sweat;

and comes a quiet, now.

The rough and shouting daylit world

is muted by the twilight: the violet dimness hushes all

so you can hear another Call.

Another Voice, to call you home.

All still you stand, to hear it.

It promises all good delight:

A simple meal; a healing bath; and sleep,

protected by the golden night light

God leaves always on.

Come out of day, and let your small, footweary body

drink in dusk, and evening star.

God calls you home to supper.

You can go.

It isn’t far.
['Rev Dr Sparky']
['Inspiration', 'Poetry', 'God', 'Heaven', 'Spirituality']