Weather (3)

In that poem I was talking about–the one about people being like trees–the poet uses another striking image. He says wicked people are not like trees. Wicked people are like chaff.

For those of you who live in Indiana, you know what the poet is talking about. Chaff is the husk from grains or corn. It is the shell you peel off of the wheat. It is the husk you peel off of the corn. Chaff is the worthless stuff. It has no use. You can’t eat it. It doesn’t produce anything. You can’t watch it grow. It doesn’t hold water or sunlight. Chaff falls by the wayside. It is blown away in the wind.

There are times you may stand around admiring the height or beauty of a tree, especially if you live in a place like Oregon. Trees are huge out here. In Oregon, you may even get carried away and start to hug a tree. But that’s beside the point. The point is, when was the last time any of us stood around admiring a piece of chaff? And how many of us long to be a wicked person?

Published by omerdylanredden

I write.

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