Before television

and air-conditioning

moved life indoors,

we sat on the porch,

 

watched lightning bugs

sparkle the night,

dry lightning

punctuate the air

 

and sang hymns

to our creator.

 

If the old rugged cross

was so special,

why would we trade

for a crown? I asked.

 

The answer did not satisfy.

 

Memory holds only

the question

and the warmth

of an Iowa evening

with the family

on the porch

singing prayer,

watching sky.

 

© by Wilda Morris.

Used with the author’s permission.