The Word

The Word was made Flesh 
and the Flesh made Words. 
He fed the Five Thousand 
on words shaped like loaves 
as fragrant as the breath 
of God, 
easy to digest 
sweet as honey. 

His words were 
liquid as the water 
where fishes spawn, 
bracing as rain, 
cool to the taste: 
            Blessed are the poor in spirit. 
            Blessed are the peacemakers. 
            Blessed are the meek. 

The Five Thousand were filled and refreshed.
For one whole season they were pure 
and peaceful and meek.