Pentecost +14 - Year B
The voice of my be-lover comes leaping and bounding from tomorrow. Like Felix on catnip my beloved is here and there and everywhere, touching every past and present shibboleth with repurposed energy.
In word and grunt and grin tomorrow speaks,
Rise up, dearest,
fairest, and come.
Finally, winter is past;
rains have come and gone.
Blossoms have appeared in the land;
another season of singing has arrived,
a turtledove is again heard in our land.
A green fruit is on the fig tree,
and grapevines fragrantly bloom.
Rise up, beloved,
fairest, and come.
With or without clean hands, you are loved. Presume cleanness, hold hands, gaze ahead, and come. Together we step beyond regular rounds, persistent residence, into expanding joy. Leap, cavort, gambol — there is enough dying to go around without our cooperation. The next is yet to come.
— — — — — — —
How do you deal with this translational variation in verse 12?
The time of pruning has come
The time of singing has come
Are you singing a yet unseen future into being by setting past and present to the side?
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