After Geoffrey Meadows, M.A.
It was not in outrage, anger, vengeance, or wrath.
It was not vicious, rebellious, insubordinate, or disobedient.
It was not unworthy, unclean, infirm, or insane.
It was a righteously indignant arm that precisely and accurately cracked the whip
to drive the herd of goats, scrambling for coins scattering over the stone floor,
to stampede out through the Temple Gate.
You can hear it–
not a word or a shout,
but a shower of metal reverberating,
punctuated by uncoiled leather’s snapping.
Simply turn the tables,
tip the cheating scales,
and get that herd on the move.