In the Beginning Was the Word

It's been a while since I posted a poem.
It's been a while since I wrote a poem. This one for Felton Library Friends (a contest I didn't win, alas) on the theme Beginnings started me thinking about a different version of
In the beginning was the word...


In the Beginning

In the beginning was Word
and Word was with us
formed from ashes, dust and breath
and not one thing came into being
without Word.

Word was fruitful and multiplied
birthing wrinkled and radiant Poem.
Poem ate of the apple and ventured
from the garden into the wilderness.

In the forest, Poem encountered Story.
Brave and sturdy Story journeyed with Poem
scattering on their trail knights, wolves
bears, and girls in red hoods
so that they would not be lost.

Spring arrived and they happened upon a meadow.
Poem flitted from blossom to bloom
and Story burst forth in riotous color.
From the nearby village they came.

Those hungry for Word plucked fragrant Poem
from low branches and gathered
perfectly tasty windfall Story from the dirt
carting them home in aprons and bushel baskets.

And they feasted on Word abundantly.
Once upon a times
recited by old men at the hearth after supper
sung by mothers at the foot of cradles.

So it was that Word dwelt among them
petals of Poem and husks of Story
stitched with leather thong
bound to become Book.

Book beckoned all saying
Come unto me
you with eyes to see, ears to hear
and tales to tell. Come and feast.

Verily they came to sit at the feet of Book
learning the ways of ever after.
As it was in the beginning is now
and ever shall be––Word without end.