Sun Braid
poem by Nina Rosewood
Sun Braid
Sitting on a kitchen chair,
musing in the afternoon sun.
My hands rest in my lap.
There is space for what I feel.
This is where the southern sun shines.
This is where the flowers give their scent,
and the strong, spicy thyme.
This is life on the village square.
Men and women clap their hands,
dancing on warm, caressing stones.
Children play in the fountains,
splashing wildly all around.
The guitar sings with the birds.
The music enters — and I am inside.
Is this more than knowing?
Sun braid…
The table is set.
Sun and shade…
The table is set.
Sitting on a kitchen chair,
listening to the softly breathing wind —
it caresses face and hair.
This is who I am.
This is where the tamarind trees sway.
This is where the southern sun shines.
This is where the bees hum.
This is life on the village square.
Men and women clap their hands,
dancing together on the warm earth.
Children toss their balls in play,
throwing them up and around.
The guitar sings with the birds.
I feel it deep inside.
This is who I am.
This is more than knowing.
Sun braid…
The table is set.
Sun place…
The table is set.