You were never a nine to five man.
The Elimelech family farms, an all consuming plan.
Town councilman, seat on the stock exchange,
selling grain futures, respected bachelor of Bethlehem.
Boaz, you had weathered withering days of famine
when capricious Judges ruled the land, promises
like empty clouds mocked the dust.
Refusing to flee as others had,
You stayed to labored in the House of Bread.
She came to your attention, the graceful young widow,
gleaning grain dropped by the reapers in your fertile fields.
Inquiring of her sorry state---no pension plan,
insurance or social security---compassion
charged your heart granting permission and protection.
Faithfully she filled her basket under searing sun,
just enough grain---bread for two---Ruth
and her withered Mother-in-law.
The Moon crushed the threshing floor with silver.
Weary from winnowing, you slept.
All pride aside, obedient to Naomi, she crept to
lie at your feet---silently as the stars moved
across the heavens.
Early at the city gate---
sipping first coffee of the day---
you advocated her case.
Slapped a scuffed sandal with the nearest relative
to secure Ruth’s future with you.
Love swelled you heart for the virtuous widow.
But Boaz, even you not could see the future
far enough to know that Obed, born
that year to Ruth at the Elimelech family farms,
was to be progenitor of The Daystar
which would rise in God’s good time
across the threshing floor of Bethlehem.
The Bible: Ruth
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