Mouth Organ

The porch now is cool

And chores set aside

And crickets move in for a chat.

The moon o’er the lawn

Awaits the pure tone

Of reeds and my breath, fancy that.

I give them a piece

That must start out low

Addressing the pain all around

But upward its climb

To regions sublime

Embracing the Mercy I found.

This little band dear

With notes oh so clear

Responds to my cadence and kiss.

And night friends all pause

Emotion the cause

Drawn out by a wee song like this.

So artless each chord

Resounds to my Lord

There must be His love in the tune

Each breath and each thought

By His kindness bought

With heavenly choirs coming soon.


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