One Quarter of the World

(I'm not normally much into poetry.  And when I am, it tends to sound like Dr. Seuss.  But I wrote this for my little sister, Kristi.  For the past 26 years, we've raced horses through cornfields, trained puppies, caught fish and fireflies, chased eagles, pitted against each other in word games, conquered mountains, inhaled epic amounts of chocolate, and criss-crossed the country.  And that's only on Tuesdays.  Now she's a missionary nurse, flying off to Africa.  Today.  For three years.  I'm so proud of you, Kristi!)

One quarter of the world to cross
To stretch from here to there,
Trading fields and fireflies
For sweet savannah air,
Flitting not too ruefully
From modern trends and time
To a place where late is not
And everything unwinds.

One quarter of a house gone dark,
A room without a chief,
To light another slanted roof
Beyond the deep blue sea.
Last in line of four and two,
A daughter, sister, friend.
Strapping on the Chaco tan,
Adventuring again.

One quarter of a dream to own,
Three parts to give away,
To lose the things that fools will keep
And win the ageless gain.
It feels like a funeral,
It sounds like wedding bells,
Ringing proud and hopefully,
We echo fare thee well!

(Follow Kristi's adventures in Africa Here.)