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It might have been a neurotic's paradise,
With all that water there for endless washing,
The catering shaky, and most of us wondering
What sort of promise such a beginning held
For the couple's days and years. And then the wine
Ran out, clean out. What do you say--"One always
Likes to be moderate at these affairs"?--
When what you mean is, "There's more need than they
Can possibly provide for." Anyhow,
After a while they gave us wine in flagons,
The kind of thing it was a privilege
To drink, or think about. I still don't know
Where they had found it, how they bought it, why
They kept it until then. I do remember,
Late in the piece, a man who made some toasts
And drank as if he meant them, and the jars
For water, and the way them seemed to glow.
May the Lord bless you and those you love this week. I look forward to worshiping with you on Sunday.
Shalom,
Glenda
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