Poetry

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-An ode to the fallen preachers


Some of God's greatest preachers, blew into town today

Some came in on wings of helicopters,
spreading the Lord's future love to declare.
Others shuffled along the sidewalk noisily preaching,
like they seemed so comfortable,
as if they've always been there.

Many townspeople watched and listened throughout the year
to their glorious words
so profound.
Others hardly noticed what they had to say,
'till their feet hit the town's
cold, hard, and seeming dead ground.

They gathered together speaking boldly of seasons, sowing and reaping....
you know, the usual fare; like tending to what's in your own back yard,
and taking good care
of what it IS that is planted "in there".

Of course, they encountered their critics,
who hated their presence, and told them all to "Go blow!"
"You're not lurking around here proselytizing,
until it is you think that you have US all snowed."

The more colourful, larger than life bold preachers,
in their larger than life annual way,
again managed to deplete the world and its creatures
of its most comforting, and darkening shade.

Those who heeded the preacher's call gathered,
their harvesting tools in their hands...

and the preachers' fiery, last sermon preached... as the familiar, scented smoke drifted
all over the stark,
grassy land....

"See you all in another glorious year!", They shouted, turning ashen.
" Again, we'll LEAVE you in very good hands."

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