Why do I have to take a Saturday night bath?

Friday would be much better for us,

Never anything to do on Friday nights.

Saturday night everybody is always there

And there is something going on all the time.

Mom makes us take that bath without fail

Even if we did have a bath on Friday night.

Why?  Can someone please explain to me why?

Oh!  I bet I know why! At least I think so.

We always wear our very best clothes

Sunday morning to go to the Sunday meeting.

We always have to take them off when we get home

So they will be nice and clean when next Sunday comes.

Do you suppose that’s the real reason for baths

To make our Sunday go-to-meeting clothes last?

Gosh! I never thought of it like that before this.

That has to be the reason for the Saturday night bath.

Anyway, I hate baths whenever they make us.

When they wash my ears, it almost always hurts.

Some day, when I grow up and become a man,

I won’t ever take a bath unless I really want one.

Oh Maw! Do you have to wash my ears so hard?

It was past midnight on the mountain top.

Starlight from a thousand million stars above

Brightened the land with a silver gray.

Every leaf reflecting a drop of light.

So too tall trees became spears of silver gray.

Ghostly shadows stalked about the earth

As one lone figure moved out into the scene

From a group of nearby small wooden cabins,

Walked a few steps and then stopped

As though suddenly aware of the sky above.

Perhaps this thought went through his mind:

Could there be another blue green planet

Somewhere in that massive group of stars?

A grain of sand blown on the winds

Through endless space to one ideal spot

In which a new life would then evolve.

Could we be the only bit of solar dust

Which we call civilized life?

Are we truly civilized, is it truly life?

Does true life take another form or style?

Will we ever know the truth of our universe

Or will it always remain a question mark?

 

Though the fence spoke “stay out”

That meadow was far too inviting

On this fresh bright morning in Spring

The grass was knee deep here and there

With a springy softness to its earth

In a clear spot, lying face down

I saw the tiniest flowers I ever saw

The sunlight made the leaves bright and green

Then just inside a wooded grove across

A field of bleeding hearts stopped me quick

I know not how long I tarried there

But the world seemed to fill with joy

I press that memory into my heart

That I might revisit it from time to time

And now, you also share my memory

Perhaps God had something special in mind

When he granted America so much in richness.

A mountain range of iron ore, almost inexhaustible coal

veins.

Minerals in great quantities in every state.

Ground so fertile, it grows more than any place elsewhere.

Forests so great they boggle the mind with trees.

Places so beautiful, only God could have produced.

 

Yosemite Valley, Grand Canyon of the Colorado!

Lake C’oer D’Alene; vast fields of California poppies

Where only a desert was; yet such small delights

Lovely patches of violets, a mountainside of rhododendrons

Blowing gorgeous colors of the rainbow as the wind waves

A holy place in the Sequoia forest in which to pray

A waterfall so high and narrow, the mountain separated

So that waterfall could reach the goal it sought

A place called Bryce Canyon, so achingly beautiful

I should write a poem about that place alone.

A river gorge, looking like some gigantic stage

On which to present majestic plays

Waterfall blowing across a cliff face: a bride’s veil

Especially when it reflects the setting sun.

And five great lakes to mark a border blessed in peace.

I don’t know what God has in mind for us

But, I sure wish I could live long enough to see.

 

 

Spring had arrived at long last

But where were all its brightly colored flames?

The hills were freshly turned to green.

No flowers yet adorned our meadows here.

Perhaps the desert would be more awake.

Up the mountain road, through the pass,

Or to the upper desert parts of our land.

Still, no fresh lovely flowers crossed the sands,

Where would we find this glow of Spring?

Now through the pass to a lower valley

And breaking out into a bright sunny day,

We saw them in such a stunning array.

It seemed as if someone had flown about

And dappled the entire hillside in colors.

Blue and yellow, purple and green abounded.

Here and there a touch of cerise and gold

Creating such a pattern of glowing beauty

Our car seemed to stop by itself

As if it, too, was so impressed, it had to look.

 

Never had our Spring so gloriously begun.

My memory of this is as fresh today

As though it were yesterday not two years ago.