Wednesday, January 14, 2009



Not my day, not my moment.
Withered, blighted, cursed.
"To everything there is a season",
I was not ready,this was not mine !
I soaked up the sunshine
lazy days of being.
When the gaze fell my way
I wasn't looking,
didn't respond.
I could scream !
This is not reasonable;
this call to unseasonal duty.
This is not responsible,
Your gaze challenged a miracle
but I did not respond.
"To everything there is a season"
the King of seasons
now is the time.

Mark 11 vs 12-14
The next day as they were leaving Bethany, Jesus was hungry.
Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs.
Then he said to the tree, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again."


Carol said...

Keith I haven't been for a visit in awhile but as always your photos and your words are just beautiful.. I can see the far away beauty of this withered old tree.

Jack Brown said...

just popped in for a look's like popping into the Jewellers...each poem is a gem. God bless



This is so powerful!

And I'd be honoured to swap links(:


Gabriel Gadfly said...

Powerful. The more I read of your poetry, the more I enjoy it.