fickle, fickle, fickle
changeable as the weather
so easy to excite, manipulate, sway
longing for a bandwagon to climb aboard
the newest, hottest intoxicating infatuation
tearing branches from the trees to wave
carpeting the road with their cloaks
press in, try to catch a glimpse
to be able to say "I was there"
no selfies then, but I was there
as he passed by, riding a donkey
didn't seem anyone special and yet
it was as if his gravity captured us
drawn into his orbit we had to be there
then the shouts began, voices raised
"hosanna to the son of David
blessed is he who is coming
in the name of the Lord
hosanna in the highest heavens"
crowd pushing, shoving, dust rising
something of a rolling maul
sweeping down the hill
towards the city gates
numbers ever growing
shouts build, chants louder
people caught up with, part of
well whatever it is that's going on

and then

our crowd met others
those pushing, shoving
trading by the gates
getting into the city
catching up on news
our shouts lost in the hubbub
the crowd drifts away, soon gone
other business needing to be done
suddenly just a bloke, a donkey
so what was the fuss about
the excitement fading
till the next time
and what'll that be

fickle


Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week
13th April 2025
following Matthew 21:9