I watched the sunsets slowly burn
And shafts of sunlight, afternoons,
Fall through clouds of feather-white.
I heard the wind once, playing tunes
Across the boughs of flow'ring trees
And through the grass grown much too long.
And from the wires across the street,
Heard symphonies of mourning song.
I caught the autumn leaves that fell
And barefoot, ran through mottled woods
Where shadows danced across the ground
And sat and dreamed because I could.
But now, I've lost the quiet feel
Of serenity in mud and dust
And forget the glow of fireflies,
And only listen when I must
To wind that blows against the window
Or feel the hot sun through the glass.
I fan myself in stifling rooms
And never walk upon the grass.
I notice not the birds that fly,
Nor spiders spinning webs with care.
I move too fast to feel the sun;
Too fast to know it's even there.
When life's responsibilities
Distract me from the slow, calm earth
I miss God's stillness, found in peace,
And don't know what such things are worth.
How then to watch the sunsets burn?
How then to hear the wind play tunes?
How then to feel the peace of trees
If I've no quiet afternoons?
I want the stillness summer brings--
Not unceasing, tired frustration.
I seek my God and long once more
For days of quiet contemplation.
postscript
Whose idea was it to take a child from days spent outside swinging and playing in the woods, and transform her into a young woman with no time for anything but school, work, and sleep, and put her somewhere where she can't chase butterflies if she wanted to? Sigh.