swaddled baby lay in stone manger
boy grows skills as carpenter mason
learns plumb, rule, chisel from father
is tempted to turn stones into bread
but will not live on devil’s hard tack
rabbi whets hunger of discipled hearts
prompts petra’s rock solid profession
weeps on palm littered road into city
children and stones cry out his praises
but hard hearted crowds yell “crucify!”
he stumbles with cross on same pavers
as suffering hones his mission’s passion
earth quakes, rocks split, he yields spirit
wrapped body lay in stone cold tomb
he leaves grave clothes folded on slab
now actively quarries with measured cuts
to raise new temple built of living stones
a poem in my pocket 
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