Chilly morning in south Florida,track all to myself, regulars at home
in socks and jackets, drinking coffee
to ward off sub-60 temperature but farther
off, Montana men work daily out in 17 below.
We'd gnash our teeth if we saw 20,
there they'd shed the layers, talk about
a heat wave. In India a loaf of bread's just pennies,
but with wages low, to some that loaf's a luxury.
We're called to tithe, give back a tenth of what
we've been blessed with by God but quite
a difference that man who has a million left
and widow's mite that's all she has
when they pass around the plate. Her gift's
the better of the two. There's always someone
who has more or less of whatever topic you
concoct-- problems, vices, off-shore bank accounts.
My life's more difficult in many ways, perhaps,
than yours but on the other hand, cakewalk compared
to others. Old man mumbling of Great
Tribulation in the parking lot at Publix can't
concieive that elsewhere in the world, martyrs
for their faith don't talk about it coming.
For them, it's already here.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment