Childhood at the beach
Childhood is when the night passes
quickly, rising as the sun rises,
to watch the herons stake the fishes
singing with the birds in the trees.
Frogs are still before the kingfisher;
rain is read from a friendly dragonfly;
nests are secrets only to the finder -
these lessons live to live by.
War is solved in kites and fishing poles,
in hide-and-seek and barefoot races;
faith lies in seasons the sky extols
and virtues friendship embraces.
Peals of thunder break the afternoon,
driving the fowls to their tree;
and we catch the raindrops, and soon,
across the field, dash for home in glee.
Respite not enough, schooldays are long,
and everything is passing imagery,
ephemeral is childhood, and all along
the years are gone, but blissful memory.
Take it from the sages of old who knew
what makes a man, the child of years ago.
what the seed was and how it grew –
look and behold! It is true. ~
Childhood on the countryside
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