In Kateable Hands

Saint Catherine
St Catherine by Caravaggio

In Kateable Hands

Catherine, Ketevan, Caitlin and Kate.
They’re level and sensible, seemly and straight.
They know how to work and they know how to wait,
Do Catherine, Katharine, Kitty and Kate.

I must have met dozens
In neighbours and cousins,
And every one is an Empire State.
They’re clear and collected,
With diction perfected,
All thoroughly practical, thoroughly Kate.

I’ve always thought Catherines seem so contented
So frankly presented,
So fresh and undented.
Now Kates may seem dashful, or rash or unruly,
But deep down, all Kates are still Catherines truly.

Karen and Cathy and Katya and Kate,
They’re never the Average, always the Great.
Never Unready, or Reckless, or Late
Are Catherine, Katharine, Kitty and Kate,

Steadfast and sisterly,
All throughout history
Buttoned and booted and striding their gait.
Laying down winter fruits,
Backbones of institutes,
Anyone getting things done is a Kate.

I’ve always thought ‘Catherine’ sounds so dependable,
Calm and commendable,
Never up-endable.
‘Kate’ sounds diminished, unfinished, and merely,
But secretly Kates are still Catherines really.

Trine, Catrina, Kalena and Kate,
They’re Hekate’s daughters, and carry her trait.
They’re masters of fortune, not victims of fate,
Are Lina and Ina and Cathleen and Kate,
With K or with C,
With a hard or soft T,
They’re Catherine, Katharine, Kitty and Kate.

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