Redbud

I go into a different mode in Holy Week.  No matter whether I lead or attend or miss worship services.  There is no need to write a separate Lenten blog during Holy Week.  It is its own time and permeates everything.  I will probably publish this same paragraph there (or here, depending on where you are reading it).  We missed the donkey yesterday, the palms, the Passion.  It does not matter. Today is Monday in Holy Week, no matter where I am, no matter how many errands I run. No matter even if I go to church, or not.  It is still Holy Week.

We were gone three days.

The cat has forgiven us

This morning.

The potted daffodils

Are six inches taller

In miniature bloom,

The clematis fully anchored

On the porch column.

The redbud in front has blossomed

In full celebration

Of our return.

Unlike the cat,

There is no spite on the tree*s part.

The redbud full purple

Hails Jesus* entry

Into the week.

No spite.

It is simply, fully,

A tree in spring bloom.

It has even figured how to bud

On its trunk.

The redbud redefines

Full bloom.

It does nothing

Halfway.