Electric Circuit Rider

In the northern tier of states,

we don’t completely trust

The Easter promise that

New life will rise from the cold earth.

Take today.

It’s the day He cursed the tree

For not bearing figs six months early.

If He were only Mother Nature’s child,

Our seasons might synchronize with the equinoxes.

But no,

Springtime and harvest always come second for this One

Who stands on the far shore with other fish to fry.

Seasons are less important than the points

He wants to make,

Which, like that one about the figs, are often lost on me.

The guy I voted for says we need

More war, not less,

If we are going to get out of this mess

The other guy made to save the world.

All the Messiahs put their trust in power.

But I took the name of a savior who couldn’t even save Himself.

Or make April safe from snowstorms.

As I was hauling my garbage to the curb just now

I sensed a difference.

The thermometer told me it was cold

As January,

But

There was something behind the clouds.

The sun

Had risen

Even though it looked and felt like winter

Something in the air,

In the light,

Said that it was April.

The daffodils believe the sun.

And though by snow bowed low,

They lift their green hearts,

And they grow.