Among the many meetings That one might come to see, I came upon the grandest; In truth, it came to me. Yesterday, five girls convened In meet called Sister Moot, And if you’ve never seen one You’d find it is a hoot. The eldest called the Moot to meet, My dearest Grams is she, And so I watched them gather And start the Moot with glee. Lore they shared of younger days When they were still at home. Each reported on their life Now that they elsewhere roam. Tidings fair and ill were brought, Both joys and sorrows mixed: Miracles wrought by the Lord And trials yet unfixed. They closed in love and laughter And promised prayers for each; For aid in trials of the world The Father they’d beseech. And so the Moot was ended; The four great-aunts did leave. One left us some tasty pie, But more did I receive. For I had seen the sisters’ love And saw its holy fruit. A joy it was to be there: To watch the Sister Moot.
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