Finding us outside as we waited on Our master who brought us to the wedding, His mother, not asking, telling her son The shameful news the steward was dreading. "The wine has runout," in question she eyed Looking for what he might say and do. "Woman, what's that to me, my time's not arrived." To the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."
It's been three years since he turned water to wine; We stand at the foot of his crushing shame Twisted round a stake like vintner's vine Her son who saved stewards from blame. And so, "Why?" pours from her eyes in sobs overcome The wine saved for last, "Woman, behold your son."
© Randy Edwards 2017. artwork: Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882), St. John Comforting the Virgin at the Foot of the Cross (After the Ninth Hour), 1862. #sonnet #christianity #epiphany