Something new today: A poem. This one comes courtesy of The Writer’s Almanac from Garrison Keillor. It was forwarded to me by my better half. Although she never got to be a farm wife, she’s always had her head screwed on straight. Most days, that counts for a whole lot more than canning corn.
The farm wife turns off the TV evangelist
The Jesus I grew up with
likes to be outside.
If he’s not fishing, he’s picking figs
or showing us his mustard crop.
He prefers dusty roads, the common sparrow,
and lilies of the field.
When he knocks on your door
holding a lantern, you know it’s time
to buckle on overshoes
and go with him to feed the sheep.
But this preacher, who looks straight
into the camera and claims he knows
Jesus, says what he wants
is for me to believe in him
so he can come inside.
That sounds shifty to me.
Like a wolf with his paws dipped in flour.
Jesus who heals the blind
said we will know a tree by its fruit.
– Shari Wagner from The Farm Wife’s Almanac. © Dream Seeker Books, 2019.
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