No singing, no dance,
no flying to France,
now here marks our year lost to time.
With books that don’t last,
on TV a blast:
the news now says what for this day?
The sun still shines forth,
the moon still marks time —
so, we are the ones who are lost with no rhyme?
No shows will be gone, the heads will stay on,
we too will be free just to pray...
The One who has held all the birds in the nest,
then coddled the fruit on the vine,
Still loves to compel us, continues to show
us... this world was not made in a day.
Karen Quirk
Anchorage
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