pheasants in attendance

The Lenten journey begins anew. Last Sunday's sermon on the sower and the seed got me thinking of the ways the wayward plans (of mice and men) may still pertain to Gospel guidance. We are rooted in good soil, if the pharisee within each one of us looks to uproot the weeds of our own discerning. Here is a draft of keeping that faithful process 'real':

What handfuls of provender had

to draw deep into a sermon

on Luke 8, a pastor looking

on at pheasants in attendance,

prone to keep their nesting habits

privately, as they’re meant to be.

The town-to-town relay was like

an ancient spread of social shares,

a farmer, after all, has store

to sell beyond his cognizance;

to plant it well means everything

from ground to grain to you and me.

Careless, naturally, the story

fumbles left and right, granting some

delight to famished birds and thorns

that represent intransigence,

mindless they may be, the seed is

spilled for earnest filching, tax-free.

Yet some grain needs to grow, even

those scavengers innately know

that barren fields can only lead

to dust bowls. Thus the vigilance

of pheasants in your roadside ditch,

to germinate what we can’t see.