A POEM
Ice in the spirit
Is but frozen tears
And bitterness
Is expectation killed.
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- Karl Keating
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Phoebe,
Gentle handmaid
Of us all,
Who assisted Paul
And others
Of the early church,
You are the maker of maps,
Straight edge and compass in hand.
I am horizons…
Oh endless pattern in the trees.
You weave a world for me
Of endless beauty,…
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