First Impressions

'Forty years is a stretch,' he said

'A generation passing.' 

Such a length-

Without the milk, the honey,

Promises made,

Or someplace to lay your head

Out of wind and rain

Other than a tent.

So it all went, 

A bunch of spies -

But ten could confirm

Of the twelve sent:

Giants were afoot.

Oh, the land was ripe

Like the old man said,

But not for our picking,

We'd be bent like ploughs,

Wives and sons bled,

Sweat of the brow,

Never mind, promised land.

Egypt's looking better now.

Three square, a warm bed.