Oh God, I know in Heaven there will be no cause to sigh
Its wonders none can fathom where there is no ‘come to pass’
But if you could, oh, would you save a corner for July
Where lilies of the field wander a hill of wind-tossed grass?
Where dashing brooks slow to a sleepy crawl; where crickets trill
And lush hush steeps the countryside before the break of day
And could you give the bright-eyed boy the joy of fishing, still?
And somewhere let a meadow spill the smell of fresh-mown hay
And though there is no night can twilight lean its shadows where
The sun beamed bright in middle day, and can its ‘set’ be pink?
And then, because in Heaven there will be no need for prayer
Will there still be a river-bank where we can sit and think?
And watch the butterfly flit by and listen to the hymn
As soft breeze strums the leafy strings where fledglings learn to fly
God, I don’t want to seem as though I fret about such things
…but if Heaven is perfect will one corner be July?
© Janet Martin