muddy shoes, image by Amanda Whitbeck, on Pixabay
Blur of excited flailing
for warm cloudy skies and rain.
Dimpled smile of glee-filled cry,
“Daddy, we go out and play?”
Spare not a snail, bug, or frog,
for soiled happy hands to toil,
wriggling, writhing, wonder
in waiting pudgy palms.
Hop and splash and jump and spring,
with boisterous fits of whirling,
with feverish pumping of
little legs with cackling screams.
If only I could package
every tinkle of mirth,
every squeal of a child’s joy,
every puff of chubby cheeks.
I could sell this injured world
bottles of spectacle and
energy in happiness,
rarest of commodities.
Heart swollen to bursting,
glory be to the Father
who granted this man such joy,
a bundle of controlled fire.
W. Robert Boyd is a disabled vet who has
recently rediscovered the Lord. He is excited
about the ways God has been affecting
his family and himself, his relationships,
and his ability to write again. He is active in
his church and a Christian Writers Group.