Papa

The warm and stiff Summer air,

The gentle dance of the golden stems,

And the blue home placed on the horizon

Are beaming in the sunlight.

The hills are full of hope here,

And the sky holds no bounds

It grabs me, firmly, and holds me;

It reminds me I don’t need an invite.

The creation is breathtaking,

It leaves me speechless.

My eyes flicker to the one

Who made it by hand.

He tells me that the oil

Isn’t of importance here,

But it is the One who whispers

That love is His command.