Gold Shadows

All I want out of life is Heaven--Adam's Eden is long dead . . .

But sometimes still a buttercup evening springs

Gold shadows under the chin of a friend.

And somewhere still yellow morning on a spearmint breeze

Fingers loose curtains,

A fountain of mockingbird solos splashes laughter like lemonade

To cool bronze afternoons,

And open windows frame long beach grasses

Twirling butterscotch against the setting sun.

But then a whippoorwill whines caution across the amber-glinting twilight,

Like a lash of conscience, reminding how, naked of glory, they shivered

In the guilty shawl of night.

They lost an evening golden with God's "Well done!"--

Swallowed a new flavor and spit out the sun.

O light of Paradise--when night was but God's shadow

Cooling day, when vesper music haloed Eden's labors

And spirits drank God's whispering streams

Of wisdom, love, advice!

If only Eden's dusk remained--

If Eden's flaming sword could pierce the gloom!

And, yet, what grace--

God's sword of judgment forms a cross--

What glory shines from God's Redeeming Son--

Light, not of Eden lost, but Heaven won!

--CJW--