Sunday, April 9, 2017

Waiting for Paint to Dry

The dawn invites a beautiful day
Cool, with a breeze from the south
Chilled by the night, over the gulf
It will be a pleasant Sunday

The saws hum, as boards are trimmed
As the sun begins to warm the patio
It is Palm Sunday, a day to remember
There is so much to remember, so much to forget

Finally, the cutting is through,
The wood, primed and ready
The paint glides on, brightening its host
It is as if it were any day, but it is not

It is Palm Sunday, a day we remember
A day we forget

We remember the Christ, riding triumphantly
As the throngs cry out Hosanna
But those same crowds just days later
Cried out for Barabbas

How fickle and petty we humans
How arrogant and assured
Are we in God’s image?
Or is God in ours?

It is Palm Sunday, a day I remember
A day I reflect

As I wait for paint to dry.

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