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By Abigail Leigh One day, He’ll tell me “It’s time.” No chance to gather my years To pack up relationships To sign across the line It will be a day Begun just as others Then, with trumpet sounded Clouds will be parted The vineyard master reappearing My tenancy expired By herald hastened I’ll climb the hill Blow out my lamps Look upon entrusted fields below The ones promised—tomorrow Still to plow, unripened now “Too busy!” my plea Preparing to be busy Shall reap solely season-sown futility “Too worried!” my apology Worrying what worry was left unworried Shall inherit merely misused opportunity “Too distracted!” my confession Digging up the next distraction Shall unearth but poor-stewarded possession “Too perceptive!“ my rationalization Perceiving perceivers’ possible perceptions Shall produce not proper-planted attentions Days of cultivation and harvest Threshed before Him What have they to say-- A seedbed left un-watered? A garden tended half-hearted? A branch, by thorns, overgrown? A foundation without Cornerstone? What fruit have I to give To the One whom I now beg—forgive? Only pray by grace, for this empty plate There still may be a place Set at the table of my Heavenly Host. Abigail Leigh is a harpist and poet from Oregon. As a self-proclaimed paradox, both a creative and analytical being, she draws inspiration from life's dichotomies: the belief that light and darkness, growth and decay, and joy and sorrow travel in tandem. Every season has a story to tell, and she writes because she is committed to unveiling truth from learned experiences. Her poetry has been published in Darling Magazine, Black Fox Literary Magazine, Equinox Biannual Journal and Clayjar Review.
Abigail's other work on Foreshadow: A Deeper Calling (Poetry, October 2022) The Mountain Sermon (Poetry, October 2022) Related work on Foreshadow: The Parable of the Talents (Poetry by Bill Ayres, April 2022) Please support us by sharing this post or buying us a book.
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