On our old North Clayton farmstead -
my brother, sister, I -
were picking berries with our mom,
when brother caught my eye.
In each our hands, a bucket with,
our minds on all our work.
We each were very diligent
'til brother went berserk.
Wisconsin's early summer brought us
many ripe gooseberries -
but never could we match what mom,
within her bucket carried.
God's trees stretched high above our heads,
His briers pulled our clothes -
yet creek ran faithful, east to west -
while heat, with sun, had rose.
Now you don't know my brother yet,
but all of us could tell,
that trouble followed him around
and knew my brother well.
He said, "Look here, at this kitten!"
He poked it with a stick -
but when it turned and raised its tail,
our mother yelled out quick.
Although it wasn't humorous,
we giggled in our fun.
But when mom said it was a skunk -
we sure knew how to run!
Now sin can still deceive us.
It's fun, this world thinks -
but it is not to play with so,
remember, sin still stinks!
Copyright 2017 by louis gander.
Poetry for sermons and just plain enjoyment.
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