(Composed at a table with friends
at the local Panera, 30 May 2009).
Born to privilege are some,
Robed in gold and precious gem,
As kings and princes these cedars come,
Rising to great heights of majesty.
The mighty oak stands tall,
While others, adorned by exotic fruit,
Display bows of exquisite flower.
Yet as thou, O little Q-tip tree,
Lowly as the shepherd boy or carpenter's son,
Dirty and scraggly, barely a leaf,
Cloaked in rags and burlap sack
(Nothing beautiful to attract the eye),
In such attire was our Savior born--
No jewel-bedecked, sparkling crown
Or marble Roman palace ground.
So lift your voice! Extend your hands!
Fronds to the heavens, as the children raised--
That Sunday morning their Savior praised!
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