watermelon fields

Out In The Fields With God

by Louise Imogen Guiney

The little cares that fretted me,

I lost them yesterday,

Among the fields above the sea,

Among the winds at play,

Among the lowing of the herds,

The rustling of the trees,

Among the singing of the birds,

The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might pass,

I cast them all away,

Among the clover-scented grass,

Among the new-mown hay,

Among the hushing of the corn

Where drowsy poppies nod, 

Where ill thoughts die and good are born--

Out in the fields with God.

Across the street from our house, lies this shady green field.  It does it's best to shelter from the heat, but Louisiana summers are hotter than a hornet's nest.  The kids run and play, while I sit panting in the shade.  I'm forced to be still.  No folding laundry or cleaning the kitchen.  Just sitting and watching, and playing and dreaming.  I've learned to love our hot little picnics.  I don't miss the distractions.  I relish the simplicity.  There God does the talking and I do the listening.