A Poem A Day - Sweet Sunday
Poem By Rita El Khoury
It's so quiet here, I can almost hear
Mother earth breathe right into my ear
Sending a gentle breeze, a whisper of grace
And a secret calling of love and faith.
A few voices raise from time to time
Violating the absolute calm, dishonoring crime
My father telling the gardener by numbers
Where to plant the remaining three cucumbers,
Our neighbor calling her five-year old child
Who went with his friends to play in the wild,
My mother wondering, with a loud voice
What she'll cook for lunch, very hard choice,
And a car engine struggling to come up
The hill to our house, it decides to stop.
But the nature knows exactly how to resist,
It's almost like these sounds don't exist,
They get dissolved into the sighing gust
Like thin powder mixes with the dust.
I've been sitting here for over two hours
Watching the same bunch of six red flowers,
I have tried to move a bee away from my ear
But it came back, buzzing with no fear,
I guess this is a way to show her elation
At the sight of this incredible creation,
It's her way of saying 'I love you spring,
I love all the joy and hope that you bring'.
Now, I decide to take a look around the garden
Unlikely, the cherry tree carries a heavy burden
This year, a lot of red is mixed with the green
Making a blend, like nothing I've ever seen.
I can nearly hear those cherries calling me
To savor their taste, mouth watering and creamy,
I can nearly feel their velvet dress in my hand,
Trace of heaven, delusion of a different land.
My father once said 'You should fortify the roots,
This is how you manage to get lots of fruits'
He also told me it was extremely tough
But I notice his strategy worked well enough,
I can see mini-apples, mini-pears, a mini-peach
And a lot of mini-currants still out of reach,
I can also see blooming flowers of every shade,
A once in a lifetime sight I wouldn't trade.
I return to my little white plastic chair
Convinced that there's is so much love in the air,
I can't help but notice the peace is back
And everything has been put right onto its track
My father is hosing the watermelon, hoping it'll grow,
The gardener left but promissed to come back tomorrow,
The neighbor's son apparently is still out
But his tired mother decided not to shout,
While my mother finally settled on a barbecue
But whether it's chicken or meat, I have no clue.
I sit down and choose to enjoy the serenity
Of this moment of glory, trapped in the eternity.
It's so beautiful here, I can almost see
The gentle wind roaming to hug the tree.