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“Only in his hometown and in his own household is a prophet without honor.” Matthew 13:57

Sometimes, when I go shopping, I meet a strange woman.
Barefoot, 
dressed only in a garland of dried flowers and an old sheet stained with bird droppings, 
with last year’s nest on the head and ecstatic glint in the eyes,
she gets up on the pallet of tinned peas
and makes a speech.
I wonder who she is.
Another one crazy goddess of Walmart?
An older Ophelia the shepherds saved and smuggled oversea to the States?
Or, maybe, she is an anthropomorphic metaphor for the knowledge obscure to mere mortals?
She seems to be upset that people can't figure out a word she says.
I understand your feelings, metaphor:
even a small knowledge seems great to the ignorant; 
the great knowledge seems to them madness.


08.11.2019
Last Year's Nests Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish

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