THE CROOKED STICK

Hilda Stob Poetry
1975

A STICK LAY ACROSS MY PATH ONE DAY, KNOTTY AND CROOKED AND ROUGH.
“THAT’S NOT A GOOD STICK”, I SAID TO MYSELF,
“IT’S HARDLY WORTH PICKING UP.”

BUT, ALONG WITH SOME NICE STRAIGHT STICKS I FOUND,

I PLACED IT ON MY FIRE.
AND SAW THAT THE KNOTTED, CROOKED, STICK,
BURNED THE BRIGHTEST ON THE PYRE.

IT MADE ME THINK HOW GOD CHOOSES US,
ALL TOGETHER, IN HIS BUNDLE OF WOOD.
THE UGLY AND ROUGH, – THE KNOTTED AND STRAIGHT,
ARE IN HIS LOVING HANDS MADE GOOD.

 

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