Late Winter: The Fig-Tree (Lent Poems 18)

This poem should probably belong earlier in the Lent sequence, but I hadn’t decided until recently where to place it. It best belongs, chronologically, between Jesus’ triumphal entry in Jerusalem and the Passover meal. Here it is now:

Late Winter: The Fig-Tree

The leaves were there.

They promised something –

Early fruit perhaps, the first sign

Of winter dying.

The Temple stood,

Before us, and behind us sang

The lingering, joyful echoes

Of crowds cheering.

The Lord approached

The fig-tree, hoping now

To find some sign, amidst the throng,

Of fruit appearing.

But though its leaves

Were full and lush, it

Bore no fruit. It was not the time

For figs growing.

Yet the Lord, angered,

Cursed the tree then

For all its false signs and overtures

Of fruit-bearing.

And into the Temple

He walked, whip in hand lest

He find there no signs either

Of fruit growing.