beauty

Beauty

What beauty in camps?

I sit in my favourite chair
listening to Beethoven’s last sonata,
slient breezes
in time.
to the music.
My world creates a sonata

The other shatters all possibility of one.

Guarded, malnourished;
the beauty of rescue: possible?
loudspeakers are silent.
Waiting for a pass, a nod,
family member to utter their name,
to go back home
to farm, toil, feed the earth
feel the breeze of their own
sonatas.

Beethoven calms me.
My children, near.
one dressed pretty.
Ready for her first ‘mixed’ party
The smaller cuddles her father
night air brings comfort
Smells of food. Dinnertime.
Civilized
Red wine.

Nourishment.
No death here.
just beauty
and dignity.

Bloganuary writing prompt

Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.