TREE

From the branches
Shooting over the wall
A few,
Rahab, Ruth, Ittai ...
Relished the fruit.

But how much further
The fruit hung when more,
Centurions, despised women ...
Savoured its lushness.

See Peter, branch out,
Growing the final inch
That topples the wall!
Gather with me,
My Gentile friends,
The fruit is free for us!