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Poetry

Into the Jacaranda-Garden

‘And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.’ – T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets Laid out lulled in luscious green,  sweet muslin drawing on the breeze Springtime in our courtyard with the jacaranda tree Misty mauve effusive,  Her visitation draws…

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IMPERMANENCE

DANCER, FIGHTER  The lamp rests steady  Behind a sea of black lingers. The flame, dances and rides, Upon the rhythm of passing breeze Bringing a light, A little bit of warmth, To the surrounding darkness. And for long the flame rages Neatly seated in her little glass cage, Petit to any wandering eye Yet ferocious…

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