My sister and I strolled
through fields of daisies, white
and gold meadows that stretched
for miles. And if morning
dew still bathed those delicate
blossoms, droplets glistening in morning
sun, all the better. Sister
and I would lie among
cheerful blossoms watching clouds float
by, a parade of horses
pulling carriages, riverboats with large
paddle wheels turning, and clowns
and elephants. The most delightful
procession ever. Around us, bees,
butterflies, dragonflies and lady bugs
were busy with affairs of
utmost importance. This thriving community
did not mind an audience.
They never chastised us for
laziness. Is time spent loving
nature ever wasted? We were
richer for time spent among
God’s handiwork, time spent contemplating
the life and beauty in
which we were agreeably immersed.
I miss my dear sister,
my cloud-reading teacher, my guide.
I miss the days when
we dwelled among the daisies.
by Thomas Wigington