A Poem of Spring

Light through window panes
even when it rains
A smile when awoken by orange sky

Fruit and flower stands
Bike riding plans
Daffodils in hands

Fistfuls of grass
Picnic snacks 
Bird songs 
If outside, no wrongs. 

Green fields 
White clouds
Blue skies 
Breeze in hair makes you feel alive.

Bicycles, roller-skates, scooters
Blue bells, tulips, cherry blossoms
Sun, sun, sun
Smiles, smiles, smiles.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Back Home

I held my breath as the plane hovered over the runway, only to exhale when I felt and heard the tire hit the asphalt. My father and I high-fived. We were in the United States of America. We were home .  I became ecstatic entering the airport with all the signs reading in English. After two months in which I was constant dependent for translation, these signs filled me with triumph. I could resume being a completely independent, functional human being again!  I whispered a chant of the national anthem as we emerged from the airport out into the pouring rain. It was much warmer than Poland. If I’d been living in India instead of Poland for the last two months, I’d probably regard the pouring rain as a sign of bad luck for our return, but the constant rain in Poland that occurred no matter bliss or suffering taught me otherwise.  While sitting in a bus on the way home, gazing outside the windows that dripped with rain drops and watching the familiar landscape of the passing
Read more

Thanksgiving

There are no pots or pans clanging as the sun rises. No relatives laughing, cooking, baking or drinking together. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade is not on TV. I awake to silence.  There is a dinner with the American ambassador that is traditional in the sense that there is a fat turkey in the middle of every table, but cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans and relatives are not present. A day later, there is another Thanksgiving dinner, but with friends. A “friendsgiving”, if you will. We assign foods to each other and I attempt to teach traditions of the American holiday. The girls dress in skirts and tights while boys wear button down shirts and dress pants with a belt. In the kitchen three of us peel potatoes, another three fry the chicken in egg yolk and flour. We set the table with plastic forks knives and plates. We stand around the dining room table decorated with food and say how thankful we are to possess the ability to stand around a mahogany tabl
Read more

Bus Tales

I calculated that I spend more than 400 minutes on a bus each week. In these hundreds of minutes, I observe an etiquette I was never taught. An atmosphere of uptight bodies and secluded minds. A rushing world I barely encountered in the States.  Children are taught to never sit down on public buses. The custom remains that if anyone older than you is standing, you surrender your seat. Something about this custom of standing up, saying "Proszę," (please) pointing to your seat, and the person replying “Dziękuję." (thank you) with a smile makes my day. The good deed has been engraved in the youth of Poland, but not in me. This new act of kindness, while most don’t think much of it, reassures me.  Elderly people appear happier here. Or at least, the elderly women appear happier. When sitting or even stand on the buses, they talk with a smile. Multiple times I will stand inside the door, seconds before the bus departs, and I see an elderly woman walking or hopping
Read more