An Ageing Disciple

I pruned an ageing pear tree yesterday,
removed those limbs that ceased to carry leaves,
shortened others, kept its chosen shape,
all aimed at boosting next years crop of fruit.

This horticultural metaphor seems apt:
I’ve passed the dreaded three score years and ten,
and find myself less fruitful than before,
in need of pruning, not literally I hope.

The gardener who prunes us is the Lord,
who spoke indeed, in John fifteen, of vines,
that he’s the true one, each of us a branch,
how if we are to fruit we must be pruned.
Dear God, cut out of my life all the rot,
and though I’m older, let me still bear fruit.

Peter Campion, 2016.

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