Orchard Impression

Autumn Still Life

The apple trees we passed on our drive today
are more beautiful than the ones
a mile or so from our front door.

This has little to do with the leaves traced in light
or the red apples strung through them
like beads on a ball gown.

The magic in these trees comes from the idea
that they might be tended by somebody
who takes the time to thank God
for the beauty found in shadows and cobwebs,
leaves littering the yard,
bittersweet berries on a vine grown out of control, and
the joyous squeals of a child just waking to the face
of the most important person in the world.

The unknown story woven into those trees,
that old, in-need-of-paint farmhouse,
and the hill bathed in God’s light
is what these gnarled old trunks,
branches, and twigs have going for them.

It is enough for me.

Hope and Hubris are not the Same

Hubris and Hope

She is proud to call herself a Social Justice Warrior.
It is a role she’s been trained for from birth,
and she is confident in her abilities.
She will right wrongs,
eradicate poverty,
close the gender wage gap,
end war,
racism,
sexism,
ageism,
capitalism.
Using her words,
her wit,
her tenacity,
(resorting to bullying only when necessary,
and it is necessary more often than one would think),
she will bring down those
who mock,
appropriate,
microaggress,
and fail to feel guilt for the sins of the fathers.

She was born
(not all that long ago)
to change the world.
She’ll let nothing stop her,
not even God.
Especially God.
Oh, she believes in Him.
Surprised?
Why, she loves Him dearly,
but she must pick up
where Jesus left off.
Finish the job.
He did good things,
but really, why didn’t he do more?
And people today are so dense.
Couldn’t Jesus have been more specific?

Yes, today is a new day,
Sunday, in fact.
It’s time to lace-up, log on,
carry her sign, voice her opinion,
and make a difference.
Nothing will stand in her way,
not even the guy next door
—what is his name?—
sitting in the hallway
with a razor blade in his hand.

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