on the Jericho road
My Son and His usual

passed through a vale
of abundant
sycamore trees, verdant
and yet

so less in value than the
mighty cedars of Lebanon,

once felled for the lofty temple,
about to be bereft, left;

then, verily, He paused, among
them there
in the restful shade
of the humble sycamores to
gaze round about Him, the lowly

Temple about to be Treed, He felt
for the right

therefore to say,

: and then there was
the neighbor

allowed how her hearth had
fallen dark
in the night; and so
in the morn

she appealed to
her neighbor whose
hearth burned bright in the daylight

‘o, give to me,’ says she
out of her darkness
to customary carry in a

pot upon my head
some coals from your fire

that I might re-light

my hearth’; and
her neighbor in reply

said unto her, ‘as you have said,
let it be thus unto you’

and I say, in place of
My Son

how much more constrained
would it be

if that darksome neighbor were
the village gossip
who’d oft profaned the name
of her lightsome neighbor,

lo, if even she were an enemy
in the darkness

and yet
with those coals of fire
heaped upon her head

how then those others in the village seeing
her return into her own home
yea, in such manner
still I ponder thus:

what will the neighbors think?

Carl Winderl’s poem ‘many people shy’ appeared in the award-winning 2018 issue of “The Ravens Perch.” These five poems are from “The Lost Parables of Jesus,” subtitled ‘as remembered by His Mother on the Road to Jerusalem,’ to be published later this year by Finishing Line Press.