A bruised reed he will not break

A bruised reed he will not break     Isaiah 42 v3

Waving like Palm Sunday

the reed bed wakes

and greets the morning sun.

In the sun, the jewelled fronds

crown the stems

with their minor glistening,

gently bowing

in reverent homage.

The timpani stirring of wings

and warbling birdsong

provide the anthem:

prepare the way

for day

is here.

And these reeds

waited for the stirring

like the lame man

at another poolside,

in another land

at another time.