POEM: Summer Afternoon

Above our house an ancient maple spreads
its branches wide to shade in shadow all
that falls below: perennials in reds
and blues and, wearing muted greens, a small
but stubborn bed of hostas which we’ve done
our careless best to kill through sad neglect.
A hum of bees floats lazy in the sun.
Loud squirrels voice their chattered, shrill objections
while the boys play fetch with Chesterton.
And on the table here: John Bunyan’s Grace
Abounding, Baker Street tobacco in
my pipe, two fresh-poured hazy IPAs —
all gifts our Maker made and gave to fill
the earth with joy. Drink deep. Give thanks. Be still.

---

This poem was published by The North American Anglican on May 17, 2022. The line capitalization in his version has been updated.

---

---

Subscribe to Josh Bishop writes.

---

And check out my other Substack publications: