Ideas (Haiku)

Ideas are cheap

They are a dime a dozen

Follow-through is dear.

When Heaven Met Earth (not mine)

The preacher’s old truck rattled down the dusty lane, sunlight spilling over fields so green they seemed to hum with life. Rows of corn stood tall and proud, their leaves whispering in the summer breeze. Beyond them, a red barn gleamed like a jewel, and the air was thick with the scent of clover and fresh-turned soil.

He slowed to a stop at the fence line, leaning out the window to take it all in. The place was immaculate—every fence post straight, every row planted with a craftsman’s precision. It was, he thought, the most beautiful farm he had ever seen.

The farmer, broad-shouldered and sun-browned, was mending a gate nearby. He tipped his hat as the preacher called out, “Brother, God sure has blessed you with a beautiful farm.”

The farmer paused, resting his hands on the worn wood. His eyes swept over the land—over the fields he had plowed before dawn, the weeds he had pulled in the heat, the storms he had braced against. A slow smile tugged at his lips.

“Yes, He has,” the farmer said, voice warm with sincerity. “And I’m grateful every day.”

Then he leaned on the gate, his gaze steady and a touch wry. “But,” he added, “you should have seen this place when He had it all to Himself.”

The preacher chuckled, but the farmer’s words lingered in the air like the scent of rain before a storm—a reminder that blessings often bloom where human hands meet divine grace.