The Joys of Ice Cream
on a Sunday Afternoon
Have you ever thought
Of the joys of an ice cream cone on a Sunday afternoon
Even so much better when the day is warm and sunny
Taste buds explode
As the tongue first touches the cold.
Warmth melting frozen into delectable cream
Slowly the scoop disappears lick by lick
Each transformed into a gourmet encounter
The tongue sadly darts in for one last taste
Before crunching the cone
In all too much haste
Comments: Aren't the simple joys sometimes the best? Who hasn't enjoyed a delicious cone on a warm sunny Sunday?
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Courtesy of Dreyer's Website
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Farm Sundays
It’s Farm Sunday
An annual event
Seated under the trees
Shaded from the heat
The minister talks of
Christ and Salvation
I hear the locust singing
"Peter the rock
upon which the Church was built,"
The pastor states
I watch the little sweat bees
Drifting freely in the breeze
"Christ is the way,"
said in so many words
I feel the Sun's rays
As it slips from behind the clouds.
Messages given
And messages heard
They're not the same
I like Farm Sundays.
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| Comments: The church to which I belong has an annual Farm Sunday held at one of the congregation's rural home. The service is held outdoors, people in lawn chairs. Following the service we all gather for a delectable potluck. This year, despite the fact that the minister gives dynamic sermons, my mind wandered to other places. I observed the littlest creatures as they went about their business oblivious to us. I sensed a greater message about God and His creations. |
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