the tale of the vinedresser and his vineyard

a poem i wrote yesterday :) based on isaiah 5:1-7.

clinging to a stony wall
thick green vines there twisted, tall
smooth and bendy, wet with dew
it sparkled with a gorgeous hue

He'd dug out a place, a pasture still
where it rested on the fertile hill
all the rocks He'd cleared away
He'd emptied it of all decay

cloaking a humble black watchtower
the choice vines there began to flower
He was so pleased He hewed it for wine
with great anticipation, cared for the vine

all the tools prepared to press
waited for grapes to make a mess
patiently He pruned and hoed
even set aside his cattle goad

finally, the fruit sprang forth
but they resembled the grapes up north!
wild and riley, the black juice dripping
in the background rang the ripping

of the beloved dresser's clothes
angry He cast down his hoes
He broke the wall, trampled it down
the grapes stared blindly at His frown

He let the wild grapes run free
laid it waste, and let it be
thorns and thistles crowded around
the once green leaves turned sickly brown

He removed the hedge, it was devoured
not a drop of rain was showered
by His word shut up the heavens
and so the black wild grapes there withered

seeking justice what did He find?
bloodshed and a great outcry
the vinedresser perplexed and grieved
could such a thing have been believed

so inhabitants of Jerusalem
judge now between the vineyard and Him
what more was there for Him to do?
what more could He have done for you?