The Plains of Moab

Artwork showing Ruth in a field reaping wheat with other women.  Burnt orange color scheme.
Ruth Gleaning
J. James Tissot
Public Domain

(Click on image for larger version.)
In those years, Moab was a place,
east of the river Jordan.
There was sweet grass and barley in the fields,
and grapes for the wine press.
On the planes of Moab, cattle grazed
and thousands of sheep.
The king made gifts of wool.

There were sowers, and gleaners.
Naomi walked there, and Ruth.
In the high mountains of Moab,
Moses looked down at the promised land,
and breathed his last.
In those years, Moab was a place.

In these years MOAB is a bomb/Massive Ordnance Airburst Bomb/Mother Of All
Bombs/Meant to destroy targets hidden deep in the earth/In these years MOAB
is meant to terrify/Meant to wrap its prey in flammable foam/foam to ignite,incinerate, annihilate
/In these years The planes of MOAB will
commandeer the heavens and rain death.

Do you hate what we have become?

Do you long for the plains of Moab,
with its plentiful fields of wheat,
where Naomi came
when there was a famine
in her own land,
when Maob meant sustenance,
so long ago
when Moab meant bread
meant life?

Gail Golden

Previous Poem | Harvest | Next Poem

Send comments to peacepoet at aol dot com

Copyright ©2003 by Gail Golden