I had dinner last night with good friends. We have been close for over thirty years and continue to enjoy each other's company. Driving home reminded me of a poem I wrote about their teahouse. A structure they built just to enjoy the solitude of any moment. It's just a short step from their home in the mountains.
In the spring and summer when the windows of the tiny teahouse are open you can hear the water ripple from a near-by stream as it rambles over rock and rill. Everyone who visits the teahouse takes away a little piece of peace that stays with them forever.
The Teahouse of the Summer Sun
© 2012 Rolland G. Smith
Beyond the thought of standing still
And wondering what’s held within.
A teahouse blessed by heaven’s trill
Allows the prayerful to begin.
Young trees stand sentry to this place
To grace love’s presence everywhere.
Especially in shadowed lace
When setting sun releases care.
The teahouse is a place of proof
for souls who’ve gone and those who stay.
It blends beneath its raftered roof
A place to think and one to pray.
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