Porch Life

I would feel the most satisfaction laying on my white musty porch on a good humid summer evening of the 1940's. I am listening to the thunderstorm and the pouring rain. I would be under those starchy sheets dried too many times under the sun. It would be itchy, but i would secretly like it. And as I hum bars from the hymn that I heard in the church pews that morning, he would tap his feet. It's a quiet treasure. A hushed glory. A way of Jesus telling me he loves me.