These days, I stop and wonder if
the truth still includes Matthew 6:
the birds with no barns,
the men with no money,
the Father who feeds them
just for seeking His kingdom.

Soon, He might have more birds 
under His wings
than He does usually,
neither sowing nor reaping.
These days, I sometimes worry if
He’ll lose count and let some starve to death,
till I remember He said 
He knows a lot about bread.

He was seven years ahead of the game
when famine came for a pagan Pharaoh,
sending him dreams and a prophetic slave
so Egypt could feed
all the nations with grain.

Then in the desert for forty full years
He kept every Hebrew belly brimming
morning and night
with manna and meat,
not merely organic but miracle-made.

Both David and Elijah
had to flee from the tyrant,
hunted like dogs though they’d done nothing wrong—
one He met in His presence
with holy bread,
while the other received deliveries,
banquets sent by raven beaks.

And when Elijah’s cup dried up,
he remembered the lesson
and told a widow
whom he found baking her last meal,
one last appetizer 
before she set her teeth on death,
not to fear: her jar of flour
would fill itself.
And she went and she did
as Elijah said—
and her household ate
for many days.

This is the same God
who fed the five thousand,
the same God who said
He Himself is the Bread.
He took it and blessed it 
and broke it and passed it,
and we eat, every one of us,
and on our tongues it is sweet.

Soon, we may look more like lilies than men;
we might be unable to labor or spin,
but I guess that just means
that even King Solomon won’t measure up
to the glory with which we will sit down
and feast.