Wednesday, April 22, 2015

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.

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