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By Louis Gander
Other Poems by Louis Gander


Took root, a little baby vine

had grown from tiny seed -

but it was insignificant,

so meaningless indeed.


But it drew our attention to

its cute, industrious scene -

and it seemed very harmless here

in suited leaves of green.


It hugged a tree so gracefully.

We thought we understood.

We thought it all so laudable.

We thought it all so good.


But was it we were taken in

by 'ends' we thought would be -

through 'means' by which it made its mark

upon one healthy tree?


That tree had given all it could.

"I welcome you," it said.

And so the vine continued up,

consuming tree... 'til dead.


Because of its misfortune here,

our hill became abuzz.

Persuasive and invasive and

persistent it sure was.


But care?  Oh, no.  Us bothered?  Not!

For we could never fall.

We each had thought us healthier

and stronger than them all.


Well, one by one our trees did fall.

The vines grew larger still.

They grew the way they wanted to

while thieving our good will.


I should have stopped that little vine

that squeezed a bit too tight.

It's hug was a deceptive one

that never seemed quite right.


We all had thought that we were safe,

but we were 'taken in'.

Our hill of trees was killed off by

just one deceptive sin.


No, sometimes we can't "coexist"

when others want their say,

when others prove their disrespect,

when they demand 'their way'.


From cults to sick be-headings and

abortions, right-to-die",

have we forgotten, God is Love?

The rest is all a lie!


We cannot 'coexist' with sin.

God's truth and life we need.

If Jesus lives within our hearts.

He kills that sinful seed.


We forest trees majestically

had stood atop that hill.

If only we'd been prudent and

been faithful to His will...


One Nation under God we were -

but we had thought it fine,

that we allow a monster here

from cute and tiny vine.


©2015 louis gander

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Submitted: Saturday, January 3, 2015

Last Updated: Sunday, January 4, 2015

About the Poet
Born in Richland Center, Wisconsin in 1954. It's the poem's message that matters- not the poet.

Other Poems by Louis Gander

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