[I gave the devil Easter week off. Easter’s always a bit tough on Ol’ Scratch. Too much hopefulness and happiness, don’t you know. So this is a re-run from last year (April 19, 2020). Many of you subscribed to The Devil’s Gift after that, so for you this post will be fresh. For the old gang…well, they’re old and probably don’t remember ever seeing this before. Whatever your status I hope you enjoy this little Easter reverie. Ol’ Scratch will be back with a fresh gift next Sunday. Until then, Happy Eastertide.]
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I saw Jesus napping in a hammock in my backyard. A transistor radio lay on his chest. A baseball game was on. Orioles and Yankees.
I stepped softly past the hammock, slipped around the pond (frogs croaked), and into a field of flowers.
I picked three fistfuls of bluebells and put them in a jar. I walked to my neighbor’s house. The shades were pulled.
(Her son was buried yesterday. No one came.)
I set the jar on the porch.
(A blackbird limped across the porch, gasping with each halting step. One wing was broken. It stood still, trembling, uncertain. I kneeled on the step, watching, a vigil to keep. The sun was slowly sinking down. The silent bird shuddered, fluffed its feathers, rose on its toes, lifted both wings, and flew away.)
I walked back to my yard.
The hammock was empty.
The radio was on.
The Orioles won.
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See Paula’s photo “Lenten Rose” on the home page. Posted March 21