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
