One more year. Luke 13.

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The field worker heard say

Give it another year

Rough it up

Dig it round

Give nutrient

And ample water

Sunshine

Gentle breezes.

Ministrations of the bees.

I will allow that year. 

You be diligent.

Otherwise at close

Of that time.

No delicious figs

In evidence and bringing

Glory to me and

My largesse.

Go for the axe

Wield it viciously.

Rake the lonely

Ground smooth.


Are you that fig tree?

Am I?

Are my children?

I shudder at such

A prospect.

And I warn.

Yes I warn.


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