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Posts Tagged ‘Goodbread Street’

[1]

Kids scream for a multitude of reasons,

In summer, winter, fall, and other seasons.

They scream because they’re joyous,

And they scream because they’re not.

They scream when they are cold and wet,

And when they’re wet and hot.

They vibrate their vocal cords

When by themselves, or in huge hordes,

And scream because they’re slightly “mad”

Or when chased by their playful dad.

But whatever the reason, or season,

Kids will go on screaming.

Giving the world of ours

A little more depth of meaning.

 – eab, 6/73

 


[1] We had an enjoyable summer in our little cottage on Goodbread Street, Nevada, Ohio. Little lot had pear tree, apple tree, three kinds of berries.

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There’s the beauty of rain,

As it sheets across the way.

The beauty of snow,

As it blurs a winter day.

And the beauty of hail,

As it balls – bouncing, on the roof

There’s beauty, There’s God, There’s proof!  -eab, 11/73

Written in Nevada, OH as we lived on Goodbread Street

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At times – who can but honestly admit the stage?

The family altar would be calm and dry.

No quiver filled the voice, no moisture trimmed the eye.

Yon Ancient History stayed just that – flat as the page.

Distant battles were read, but did not seem to rage.

Light, the soul of poetry, was not freshly lit.

Finally – devotions closed, they closed with a sigh.

 

Ah, but those other nights – precious, dear other nights,

In moments for which no dad or moma prepares;

A son [1] leading out in prayer, thanks God for his stairs.

Verses once seen but darkly, take on brighter lights,

God illuminates truth which once held no delights.

His Word will not return to Him void

He Himself, so solemnly declares.         – eab, 9/97


[1] Our second son, Lincoln, about the time he started school, did this – it brought a smile to my praying face and then (as I realized his sincerity) it brought tears to my eyes.  This family altar was on Goodbread Street, Nevada, OH.

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