I am taking a break from telling my Grandma story. Here are two poems I wrote which I hope can help you relax for the week ahead.
What flowers bloom like fine golden fleece?
Gently swaying are the young palm trees.
A gusty wind blows a million yellow petals about,
terrifying into a frenzy the busy working bees.
I listen to a cicada singing where the woods lie,
high-pitched, exuberant, joyful , and free.
Suddenly the cicada falls silent , the sun has risen high —
A pair of orioles sweep over the shadow of a coconut tree.