Mustard Field

  

While driving on a country road in England I saw a mustard field. It was just the right time when all the plants were in bloom, a patch of vibrant color on the landscape. I had to stop, take a photo, ponder the source of mustard, like Jesus sitting in the countryside, saw its brilliance and told a parable about the man who planted a mustard seed in his own field. It was a simple truth, one the people could relate to. It was a healing plant, an ancient mustard recipe. He used it to demonstrate the kingdom.

Pliny the Elder wrote of it. It can grow wild but when cultivated it is much improved. Once it is sown it is hard to get rid of it. The tiniest of seed yet Jesus said it will grow into a tree that shelters the birds.

the sound of yellow
vibrates from 2000 years
says my kingdom come

dVerse prompt on sound. Pliny the Elder wrote about natural history circa 23 to 79AD.

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Mustard Field

Rise and Fall

Roman soldiers

conquest was what they knew

carried shovels and sword

dug deep roads

into Europe and Mideast

conquering as they go

pay your tax

we’ll leave you alone

if you rebel

we will annihilate

you

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NaPoWriMo prompt on evil with some good in it

Rise and Fall

Fire

Led into the desert by the Spirit

Forty days

It was the Word that brought Him out

On fire for the Kingdom

And able to speak

Against the Pharisees of His day

He knew who He was

And ran knowingly

Into the burning man

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dVerse prompt on the word “burn” in quadrille with thoughts of Aaron Joel Mitchell, age 41, who ran into the effigy of the burning man at Burning Man 2017.  

Fire

Hometown Building

The library, church, elementary and junior high school were buildings significant to my childhood.  Their appearances would suggest that they were built around the same era with bricks from the same brickyard perhaps by the same bricklayers.  I never knew their history only their halls and rooms.

A tornado destroyed the schools.  The old library has been purchased for an upscale living space.  The church still has service once a week by a visiting pastor who says God is good.  The organist plays but there is no choir.  High on the steeple, bells still ring out the time and a tune.

oh what memories

built from debris of the past

rip through the springtime

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dVerse prompt to write a haibun on your hometown

Hometown Building