The contracts of the day lay claim
To sleepy morning minds
And din of commerce drives away
Reflections on the kinds

Of occupations children find
Sufficient to the day.
They cannot count as profligate
The hours wiled away

Chasing crayfish and butterflies,
Or biking in the park,
Or telling tales ‘bout clouds by day,
Or ghost stories by dark,

Or simply talking with a friend
Philosophy and love
While splashing toes within a brook
Where willows sway above.

Yes, contracts make their daily claim
To stir us from our bed,
And commerce with all humankind
Provides our daily bread,

But somewhere still a stream invites
—With psalms languid and clear—
Us to be more than what we eat
Do we have ears to hear?

About Brett Jenkins