sunday sonnet #13

The text today was Isaiah 65:17-25 and Ginger's sermon ran the gardens from Eden to Woodstock. Here's where it all took me.

The sermon was a mash up of Isaiah and Joni's words:
how looking back can tell us where we're going;
that the good old days were best is prophetically absurd --
nostalgia sets our cataracts to growing

so we can't see much else but the way it used to be
and we lose sight of the prophet's call to action;
to feed both the famine in the heart and the hunger in the belly
calls for us to do more than maudlin redaction.

By the time we got to Woodstock, we were half a million strong --
but then we traded our ideals for MBAs;
true faith's not idealistic, but clings to hope that does the long
hard work of courage in the living of these days.

What defines our days of glory
depends on how we tell the story.

Peace,
Milton

P. S. I can't pass up the chance to let Joni sing. Also, for the first time in a long time, posted new recipes here and here.