Saturday, April 21, 2012

First Sunday of Advent


Mark 13: 33-37

In the stale, sick,
Overheated air of the mall
You rush.

Running and searching
For that one thing
Takes too long.

My patience would be
Long disappeared by
The time we left

We would argue
On the ride home. Tired and irked
By the budget and each other

So I did not go.
Instead, I ventured into
The open air to watch and wait.

Out here, in the greys
And browns of hunting season
I sit under a hemlock.

I do not know the
Day or the hour
But I can be prepared.

For my four-legged prey
And that day when
The trumpets sound.

When the dead rise.
When the bowls are poured out.
And, when everything ends.

No comments:

Post a Comment