Oh, to grow up on the mountainside, waking to songs of little birds in the morning; watching kites soar higher than the mountain, the butterflies that flutter from flower to flower, the gentle fall of leaves, the cotton blue summer skies, the orange hue of the setting sun, the night dances of fireflies, the steady flow of stream water, the rage of fire as it burns to leave embers, the lazy tickle of noon breeze through the bamboo trees, the hawks sailing through the skies; smelling the scent of harvested rice stalks, burning grass and dried leaves; collecting seashells and stones; playing by the waves, building sandcastles during summer; feeling the cold, welcoming whisper of the Christmas wind; hearing the pitter-patter of rainfall, the ballad of frogs, and finding comfort in the lullaby of thunderstorms.

I hope you too, find peace and home in this world.

Halina de Isla
02/22/20