*image generated with AI, 2025

It was hardly more than a speck,
cupped in the rough palm of the sower,
a mustard seed, dust-small,
tossed into the loosened earth
without an official decree,
without a ceremonial trumpet call.

The rain came, soft and steady,
the sun with its patient fingers
coaxed green from the dark.

Then, one morning, there it was—
a slender shoot,
almost foolish in its thinness,
bowing beneath the wind
but holding, always holding.

The days passed,
and the slender shoot thickened,
branches stretched wide,
leaves unfolding like open hands.

Until, at last, the Kingdom revealed itself
and the birds arrived
with dusky wings and sharp songs,
flitting between its limbs,
finding rest in what was once
the smallest thing.

And isn’t it always this way?
His Kingdom slipping in quietly,
taking root where no one thought to look,
growing into a shelter,
a home,
for all who come.

-Based on Matthew 13:31-32