Poetry

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The word of God lies open on my desk in the shade of a jar full of wildflowers she picked.
Columbines, she says. Red and yellow petals have fallen on page 816.
I can remember sunlight streaming through a window one 🌄 morning and dappling the page, bringing the same feeling that....
every page be a green leaf rustling in the Wind of the Spirit,
every leaf be a petal shining in the Son.
What a wonderful flower it is as it unfolds
on the first day of summer to the 817th petal.😊

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