On the German side
Of the canal,
Northward toward
De Groote Peel,
On summer mornings,
I walked very American--
Soaking up the Dutch--

Quenching a thirty-five
Year thirst
With much unfamiliar--
So polite,
So accommodating:
Surely bonded,
But without lasting ties.

A stranger here,
My charity, odd,
Knowledge--
Questionable-remarkable;
Why should
A foreign anomaly
Know--much less be?

But I slept upon their earth,
Ate their food,
Sweltered in their sun,
And each night
Gazed with familiarity
On their faded
Northern Stars.

02/12/2009

Author's Note: NICES 2006 International Scouting Encampment

Posted on 02/13/2009
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes