On a Michigan farmer Saturday
in August,
anticipating tomorrow’s evangelical Sabbath,

When late summer vacations
invoke house cleaning chores
unusually light,

Heading outside after lunch
into this spectacularly breezy
billowing cumulus clouds
in-between radiant sky blue
infinite wonder

Into this awesomely long leisurely afternoon
becoming one of those farm kids
sent out to rediscover solitary play
while Mom clears HER kitchen
to fill grateful mouths and noses
with impossible fragrance
of Sunday dinner rhubarb pie
or fresh strawberry shortcake,
whipping vanilla or banana cream
while boiling sweet yellow corn,
baking mac and ancient cheddar cheese
for this evening’s pre-dusk compline dinner.

On this first summer celebrating Saturday
of low humidity
and temperatures predicting September seventies

Out past our red barn
past its barnyard lily pond
into golden stubbled hay fields
sheared sexy contoured place
of my temporarily uncloseted gay imaginings
hoping for God’s grace face
smiling sabbath of sensually healthy return

Continuing on
to private green cool woodland
to nakedly climb a favorite tree
skin to naked bark,
full-bodied embrace
of this fabulous shared EarthLife
transparent
open
strong
yet breezy free flexibility
with inclusive messianic hope.

Out to play,
and pray
this day
and final month
of vacation re-creation
will never end

Or end,
if time must continue,
in moonlit radiant peace,
night dreams
restoring righteousness
into perfect summer Sabbath.