Threshing Floor

By Henri Wadsfellow

   
Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem, where are your children now?  
Did you not intend to keep the sacred vow?

Determined is he to snuff the light,
who sleeps all day and sins all night.

Should no one see the furtive glance,
and then deny what stood askance?

Enter ye tall grass to hide,
as if I would my time abide?

Did I attempt to carve the law,
to see it here as so much straw?

From text or line that said forbid,
what was it that you wished to rid?

Will the stubble lie to him who turns it,
or a coin spend him who earns it?

Tell me why the humans sing.
Is it to mate without a ring?

Who has loosed the ass his bonds,
or gave the lily refreshing ponds?

Hedgerows gossip night and day.
It's time to make the culprit pay.

Loose the furry of your wrath;
chase them down the endless path.

From the mountain at its height;
dash the guilty in their plight.

Sweep the moths from mire's gate;
let the ferment choose their fate.

Start the work before they rest;
and leave the pay for the best.

copyright © 2002 by Gary Novak

    
 
Home
Mountain Fog
Perched Beneath a Hanging Cliff