Spring gets more suddenly with us every year we’re here. It’s now truly sprung. as the hackneyed phrase goes. In our garden the commonly called gaggiolo or Florentine lily or English iris is putting on quite a show and all the other flowers are now in competition with each. Even the vegetables are beginning to start a sweet show. Our Japanese maple is finally putting out its leaves. The muscari are thriving and the wysteria will now start putting on its fireworks display. Even the pomegranate is showing signs of life. The azalea is continuing to thrive.
Spring is in the air
germinating in our hearts:
Which reminds me that today is also Palm Sunday marking Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a Donkey.
I was standing by the east gate
when I first saw him pass.
Could this man create so much hate
and yet unite all class?
Through the thick crowds I caught his face
and for one fleet instance
it seemed as if he could replace
death itself with his glance.
People had cut down palm boughs,
waving them before him
with hosannas and solemn vows
in one rapt festive whim.
Sat astride the colt of an ass,
he rode through the acclaiming mass
like a king returning.
How would this local triumph end?
No blood had yet been spilled.
Would it forevermore transcend
the man, the god they killed?
All we knew was that we seemed free –
our happy feast had come.
Yet wine and bread would never be
the same again for some.
And as the palm leaves’ cross-shaped folds
are given in this nave
will he say that our future holds
no terror in the grave?