It's almost 2AM here in the San Francisco area and, already, I can hear
firecrackers going off. I guess some folks must have been out on the
town and have decided not to wait until tonight to celebrate our
country's independence from England. I have no special plans
myself. I've been busy shredding papers all day, going through
boxes and trying to tidy up a bit before my dear friend of forty-
nine years, Martha Genin, arrives on Wednesday. That is cause, in
itself, for celebration.
My oldest son, Shawn, just got back late tonight, from a weekend with
friends in Las Vegas so I suspect he may sleep away the 4th. My
youngest son, Jeremy, stopped by briefly this evening after an
afternoon of fishing and crabbing with a friend on the Pacific ( they
threw back their catch ) and Alex, my middle son, who lives a hundred
miles away in West Sacrmento is working. That's all fine by me.
I celebrate the 4th in my heart, glad, in spite of all the problems we
face in the United States, that I am an American.
Everyone knows, I am sure, how much I love to travel and I've been
truly blessed in that I have, until the loss of my job three years ago,
been to practically every corner of the globe. The cherishd memories
of the beauty of this earth, the wonderful people I've met along the
way, the delights I've experienced will forever be with me. Yet, when
all is said and done, it is always good to return to my homeland, this
country that I love above all, these fifty states that make up America.
One of the first poems in my book of poetry, "Life's Journey" which
was published in May of 2010 is called, "Home To The U.S.A.".
I may have printed it in my blog before but, today, on the 4th of
July, I am repeating it. I love you, America!
Home to the USA
I*ve traveled all about this world,
And seen sights most sublime,
The marble towers of the Taj,
And set my watch by Big Ben’s time.
I stood in awe at the Acropolis,
Drank wines thoughout Bordeaux,
Sailed past the Sydney Opera House,
Played black jack in Monaco.
I’ve watched a Barbados sunset,
Rode the Star Ferry in Hong Kong,
I saw exotic dancers in Bali,
Heard Bangkok temple bells gong.
I marveled at David in Florence,
Prayed at a mosque in Brunei,
Danced tango in Buenos Aires,
Sampled samosas in far Mumbai.
Yet, no matter where I travel,
And how far afield I roam,
It feels good to return to America,
The best country of all – for it’s home.
Copyright (c) 2005 Carmen Henesy.
All Rights Reserved
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