Amish Country

We recently went to Amish Country, and one of my previously unfinished poems I have mentioned was about a little girl we saw while there.  I’m going to have to apologise because I finished this about a week ago and didn’t take the time to post it.

 

Innocence in an Amish Girl

 

Little white snowdrop on slender green tower;

Dewdrop of white on a green, budding flower;

Shining, pale moon over treetops of green;

Tiny white bonnet on green dress so clean.

 

Bright, cur’ous eyes under young, golden lashes;

Plump, child-white fingers dance o’re wood like sashes;

Light lips kept mute by her shyness so mild—

Quickly, she smiles: A rare, pretty child.

 

The country and people we saw there were beautiful.  Groups of young boys fishing together; little girls taking turns bouncing on a rectangular trampoline (I think it was home-made); families waving as they pass in black buggies pulled by the most complacent horses I have ever seen; hill upon hill of grass, wheat, and corn under clouded skies.  Everything was beautiful.  Thank God for people who show us how to live simply without selfish worries and cares.

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