My Father is the vinedresser and I am the vine:
Every branch that is unfruitful He prunes,
And every fruitbearing branch He cleans
So that it will bear more fruit; remain in Me and bear fruit.
                                                            John  15

Sacramental Wine

Oh, Keeper of the Vine,
my branch has fallen,
I wither in dust and grime.

Lift this wayward shoot of mine
to reach for the sun,
 bound to the  rooted Vine.

Oh,  patient Vinedresser,
strip away showy leaves,
leaving me bare of  pretenses.

Oh, Dresser of  vines,
cleaned of  senseless ventures,
unite me to your lifegiving Vine.
 
 Keeper of the Vine,
You prune every branch
to bear even more for the wine.

Harvestor of  the Vineyard,
come gather our grapes,
lives blended,  wine offered.

Third Place, Poets of the Vineyard Contest,
Poets of the Vineyard Antholology,  2002
additional publisher is Storyteller Magazine.

© 2002 Bonnie Manion