I missed the official day of poetry and summer! It was on Monday, but I do have a good excuse. I was a camp counselor, once again enjoying the company of other third culture kids, running around playing capture the flag, ping pong, soccer, and making up skits at the last minute. I had a great small group of thirteen-year olds who named themselves the Namibian Terrorists, and they made my camp experience particularly memorable! On a personal level, this camp was significant in that it continues to deepen a process of healing in my life that is as necessary as it is painful. You could call it open-heart surgery, and I am still sore. I am learning to live my feelings and acknowledge them. Learning. Key word.
On another note, let me return to poetry and summer, a belated celebration of the sun's beauty at dusk and the poetic vein that rejoices in God's beauty at all stages of life and living:
summersunset
i hear the flowers whisper
secrets to the setting sun,
their conversation a pattern
painted in light and dark
on the gravel road i walk.
only when i stop can i hear
the blossoms laugh as they
are tickled by the sun's gentle
fingers as he says g'night.
3 comments:
Wish I was there too!
Ellimelli! Wish you were too! Was a blast. Hali!
Hola L. I had the chance to help in a Vacation Bible Scholl for kids, this last week, I had a group of 2nd graders, absolutly beutiful. The energy and the innocence mixed with with tremendous curiosity. We ask the kids what they were afraid of? one boy ansewered, "chicken nugets!!!" he's so silly; well I would be scared too if I knew what is really inside of those things. Love your poem. Have a fantastic day.
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