Invitation to a Feast

I set the table for you. 

Plates, forks, spoons, and 

knives laid out for your 

feast. 

I drew fresh water from the well 

and walked with the pail digging 

into my hip, where it left a bruise.

At my table, your mouth will never be dry.

I harvested the wheat I ground to make 

the bread, and I put my whole body into it,

that it would rise inside you, perpetually full. 

Your stomach need never ache again. 

I shook down my orchard and 

picked my vines bare. I filled my baskets

until my arms buckled from exhaustion

and my back protested it's bend. 

There is enough to take with you

and fill your cellars through scores of 

summers. 

Come find your fulfillment at my feast

and you will need no new love all your life;

the milk and honey of my assurance will be 

always on your lips, faith and hope will fill 

your belly and you will carry the satisfaction 

of peace with you wherever you go

should you come to my feast.