Patience Is Not a Single Virtue-a poem

Christ In Winter: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter

I usually preface my poems with “I am not a poet.” But that is like saying “I am not a theologian,” and then talking about God. If you are talking or thinking about God, you are a theologian, perhaps not educated or professional, but a theologian, nonetheless. I suspect the same is true with poetry. If you write poems, you’re a poet. So I should refrain from, “I’m not a poet,” but say simply, as warning, “I’m not a very good poet.” I work at it. Not with patience, for I am too impatient for re-writing, editing, improving. Nonetheless, I know that…

Patience is not a single virtue

Standing straight and long in line

Unchanging through the day.

There is the pastel patience

Of the dawning, a yellow rose

With crimson edges

There is the brighter hue of noonday

Blue, a sweating patience,

Yearning to be true

The zenith of the sun

Turns patience bronze and burned

With orange and scarlet stagger

Then comes the darker blue

Of evening, as a net of purple deep

Upon a garden wall, a guitarsy

Hymn of long ago, now a song

Of crickets gone to sleep

And frogs in love with moonglow

There is the deep black patience

Of the midnight, staring back

At eyes that wander walls for hope

Patience is not a single virtue…

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.