The heat of the sun beats down on the wicked and the good. My grace working like beams of light. My glory-goodness too rich for some, sheltering Jonah-like under their unappreciated plant-parasols, or under handkerchiefs with knots tied at the corners to remind them that the world is flat.
All this brightness and need for shelter is too much for one head, let it flow on to others so all may bask in the heat of my love; my love that withers sin and tests earthly patience and understanding. Let Nineveh too, have her share and be glad.
© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015