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.