Wild Oats

I once loved a wild man
sowing his wild oats
in the field where they grew
there was endless boundless freedom
and thorns and thistles too
he never promised me a rose garden
I don’t like roses anyhow
those thorns prick
and I bleed


I got transplanted
and grafted in
to this olive grove
I am fed on ancient mysteries
in a garden with flowers and fragrant fruit
the doves come and nest
in my branches
and the oil drips down
anointing the sheep

the grass is greener here
the river is peaceful and flowing
the birds sing
I am forever grateful
He keeps the wolves from the door
And allows me
to sup and eat with Him

He also says to me
“I will never leave you nor forsake you’
Lo I am with you alway…

alway?
Always…
Everyday?
yes..

He also says…to the end of the age…

While I am safe in his garden, 
idly counting sheep and resting
gazing up at the clouds
He is hard at work
Burning the chaff, separating the wheat
and letting the goats with their kids go.