Child-like Innocence is A Beautiful Thing

Published 12:00 am Friday, April 13, 2001

Local Columnist

The world is so big

Out my window pane,

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With sun and clouds

And sometimes rain.

It’s all so strange

This changing scene.

Am I awake?

Or in a dream?


By coded wails my granddaughter made me carry her from window to window at all times of day. The outdoors fascinated her, and I could read her thoughts as in the verse above.

A year later she would point to the glass door and lisp, "’Side! ‘Side!" Once outside she frolicked in a personal wonderworld, enjoying intuitive kinship with nature.

That same innocence was to repeat with her younger brother, an addicted window-hopper before exposure to a grander panorama.

Their pristine awe extorted fragments from my own childhood. The images are vivid and nostalgic.

I lie flat on my back in cushioned fescue and wild flowers and stare upwards at a blue sea. White I thrill to see a glorious rainbow born of a dying thunderstorm.

My bare feet wade through sparkling dews ushering a fresh dawn.

I whistle-mimic bird melodies echoing from a towering oak.

I share a moment with an industrious bee sucking nectar from a receptive bloom.

A playful dragonfly encircles my head and then scoots away.

An enchanted forest begs me tarry. A limpid stream warbles through its wooded breast.

A doe and I exchange glances before parting.

The forest yields to a meadow of golden corn gently swaying in the breeze.

And a content day fades in crimson sunset to presage an indigo silence ….

But age dulls memories and the inner child sleeps under a blanket of sophistication.

Very little now arouses wonder, accustomed to nature’s drama. Soon my grandchildren will leave their Elysian Fields, perhaps never to return.

But I do on rare occasion when jogging alone on a verdant landscape. I am again careless, free and curious. The world seems fresh and pure. For

Child-like innocence is

A beautiful thing,

Wondering what each

Day will bring.

A natural gift of

Innocent prime,

Enjoyed, alas, for

Too short a time.

Only a few can

This time restore,

Relearning to wonder

As before.

April 13, 2001  

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