I’d rather be eating blackberry cobbler and ice cream
On my back porch BUT,
That would involve planting blackberries,
Pruning them and picking them in the hot summer sun.
Bringing in the cows from the meadow,
Milking them all at sunset,
Letting the milk set overnight and letting the cream rise.
Gathering the eggs,
Splitting wood for the stove,
Stoking the coals and baking the cobbler,
Crushing the ice and cranking the handle for hours
Until the ice cream is made.
But anyway, sitting in my office, writing poetry,
I can taste that cobbler and know
That the Lord is good.
That redemption happens,
And that blackberries, like all good things,
Are meant for sharing.
George R. Pasley
July 29, 2020