Brooklyn Bridge burdened,
foreign feet defying
the New York heat-wave.
Sultry Manhattan,
roofs searing, scraping skyward,
bodies melt sidewalk.
Heat haze mocks early
morning desert fire and saps
what’s true, or no?
Summer surrendering,
heart enchanted, soul caressed –
serendipity.
Organic coffee,
warm graffiti welcomes my
fog-wrapped S/F day.
She made me feel me.
The best part is yet to come,
dare to be, at last?
Tweeting +googling,
Facebook frenzy with new friends,
continental connections.
De retour chez moi,
calme, les cigales chantent l’été
provençale oublié!
In my 20's, with only my guitar and a rucksack, I wandered the continents, immersing myself in the lives of some wonderful people, projects and stories, which changed the way I view my responsibility to others and this earth. Right now I'm a European transplant in the US who writes books for children and young adults. Stories can help us not only navigate our world but can connect us to others, and allow us to inspire and help each other. I believe that equity and empathy should be at the core of our all actions, words, and stories.
I am also a school librarian and I get a kick out of book-matchmaking! And I use the pronouns she/her.
What a lovely poem — you write so well. A lot of emotion. Can’t read the last line, but in my imagination I think, “My journey has been meaningful, but there is no place like home.” Don’t laugh too hard! 🙂
Thank you, Pat. Haha I think it is best not to translate the final haiku – then each person can come up with their own interpretation 😉
Nice poem. So evocative… and makes it sound as if your time was a holiday in all the needed, best senses – exploration, relaxation, and friendship.
Thanks, Rachael – you have caught the full breadth of my good experiences.
oh my that is lovely.
Am I cheating/guessing here…..
“Returning to my home, calm, singing cicadas in summertime, Providence forgotten”…….??? Whatever it is, I know it always sounds so much better hearing it in french….lol.
Pretty close, Diane. I can see I need to offer a translation. (but not in proper haiku form, I’m afraid)
Back home, restful,
cicadas sing of the
forgotten Provençale summer. 🙂
Great. Nice words for nice vacations.
Thanks, Marie Hélène 🙂