Yesterday was Trinity Sunday, so like a farmer on the edge of ruin, I’m going to milk this cow for the third time running, and re-post my poem “Apples are Apples” once and for all:
The illustration running through the middle of the page is sloppier than I’d like – my surface touch screen has been giving me fits, and I tried to hide that fact by using the calligraphy tool, with mixed results – but so be it. Someday I’ll probably replace the illustration with a scanned copy of the original (done in regular old pen and paper; the version here was traced over a badly pixelated picture of the original), but I’ll do so quietly. There’s only so many times I can re-upload the same content. Mind you, I might get away with it more if I didn’t announce my regurgitated content with a running post-count every time.
Actually, in all honesty this is probably not the last time I talk about this poem. It’s third on my picture book project list, because there’s nothing like pretending a theological diatribe on Trinitarian heresies, written in rhyme and targeted at adults, might somehow have an audience anyways.
But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”