Septugesima Bcp Holy Communion - Poem by James Tipp
Still we wait for winter
The grass crunches under foot.
The river shows her muddy banks
The moon full and resplendent
The sun peeps over the downs
Creating purple light on all
The time of fasting near
The time of feasting was but yesterday
Today we run the race
The personal faith of Paul
The present faith of now.
So we wait, remember
Those who’ve seen it all before.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You