(a rhyme royal)
A hundred Chinese lanterns cross the sky
with whimsy as the sun melts in the west.
Here in the field, our hostess wipes an eye
then throws her arms around each welcome guest
to whisper secrets she has cherished lest
they disappear like mist. She is alive
tonight, amazed to see such crowds arrive.
(for the beautiful Hope Barn, who holds her history with grace and dignity)
Penguin Poems 