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Taking a joyful turn,
never lost
when there is laughing.
With a pocketful
of summers left,
there is an always here,
a forever warm shine
like sun magic,
and wandering fields
with windy skies.
Holy Heart
And like the merest brushing of a petal,
spirit’s breath beheld me.
Standing in stillness
I heard the softest whispering
of my holy heart’s calling.
– L. LeBeau Pocketful of Summers
With My Joy Wings
The wonder caught me on the wind.
And with my joy wings I flew
over glorious fields.
Delights of this place,
more pleasures on the horizon,
my heart singing away into the distance.
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