Come sit with me, friend.
The sun will not burn us
Here under the longan tree. We will
eat mangoes and talk of the colours of
tea .
See
how wreathed we are
with sun and shade.
Away from middling mynahs
fat with tales of dead sparrows.
There is no place for them here.
Here will we sit
and watch the wriggly lines
move across our feet, bathed in
waters and
muddied by earth, not ours,
but His, lent generously
for a time.
Come sit with me, friend.
01/04/2009 at 3:38 am Permalink
Beautiful poem! Simple, yet profound reflection.
Why did you choose the longan tree?
God bless,
Josh of Tyatora
06/04/2009 at 11:23 am Permalink
Thanks!
There used to be a longan tree in my mom’s garden when we were growing up. I would compose tunes on the piano and gaze at the tree. I guess it was like my Muse!
15/04/2009 at 4:13 am Permalink
Yes, sit with me till the sun sets
And see its multitudinous rays light the horizon
The rays are not glaring
Rather, they are reassuring
And as the last ray vanishes
The ray within you splashes
And so light up your home
And bring a cheer forthwith
16/04/2009 at 9:27 pm Permalink
Nice to hear from you , C