Anchor

Straight as the crow cries

a dawn between storms

lights the rain weighted daisies.

Barrel bellied bees bungie

on long lavender wands.

I've got the straw beds down

between bean and beat rows

in case Jesus comes to lay His head

in the cool shadow of sunflower crowns.

I hope He finds me here

with a gentle pea pickin' heart,

butterflies curious if I'm as sweet

as swaying cosmos.

"I've come for the lost,"

and me mapping my way with lies,

forgeries, forced advantage,

foot in a snare,

hand in the cookie jar...

overnight a young green tendril

seeks anchor at the beanpole

of Calvary.