Each

I will pick the pears, for you're too small too reach.
And you shall test the pears. Just take a bite of each.

Inert

The weeds grew while we were gone.
They knew it was their chance.
And apples started dropping–
those got eaten at by ants.
But the work that we were doing
with the rocks mixed in the dirt,
was still sitting there, very still,
being stubborn and inert.

By Your Toil

Beans in the fields,
weeds in the beans.
God said, "by your toil"
and we feel what it means.
That nothing is perfect.
There's no magic fairy dust
or magic fairy spray
and so toil we must.
Some toil on foot,
pulling weeds with their hands.
Some toil their minds
to find a balm for this land.

How do You Imagine Heaven?

How do you imagine heaven?
A desert nomad imagines green
and water flowing all around.
A relocated businessman imagines
a family reunion in a small town.
And I imagine something like
the big kitchen in the hostel in Lisboa,
where we're all laughing and talking and cooking together.

Make Amends

A storm can break a tree,
a chipper can tear it apart,
leaving you with plenty of room
to make amends.
Ask and you shall receive,
pressed down and running over,
and you'll be forced (forced!)
to share it with friends.