Summer Sunday

We had a beautiful Sunday – sun, light light breeze, blue sky with puffy white clouds. And it lasted the whole day. Of course, we paid for it today: very very windy Monday. But sitting in the garden on Sunday morning, reading and dreaming I was reminded of a poem.

A SERVICE OF SONG.

Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.

Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.

God preaches, — a noted clergyman, —
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I’m going all along!

There was no bobolink as in Emily’s garden. Much better: a hummingbird! I am serious! Has never seen one so close. What a tiny, ferocious, beautiful creature – was in awe.

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