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My good friend, Peter Stiles penned this poem, seated in his garden after watching his church service online.

Easter Sunday

From concerning accounts of Covid cases

we have sheltered, mixing fear and sadness,

isolated in uncertainty.

Yesterday we walked the quiet streets

in silence, avoiding others passing by,

wan smiles of knowing, of dread.

An invisible enemy lurks in this season.

Holiday plans are cancelled,

trains are empty, roads deserted, caravans idle.

The only realm of movement is the virtual world,

The daily search for connection,

for traces of relief.

Or this garden seat, this morning, where, with

protected perspective, the natural world

persists unhindered, safe and still.

For today,

in the midst of a gentle incandescence,

a new day burning,

lies a beginning, this fresh hope.

Peter Stiles

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