L'Abri: A Poem and Some Pictures


The Shelter, cozied in this meandering four story chalet

A row of mountains hangs out my window.

Perched here as a bird in a nest, life's simple sweetnesses have space to be.

The table is set with a clean, plaid cloth.

Someone is playing the piano, singing softly.

Voices echo from the kitchen, chased by a waft of tonight's dinner.

An open book, covered in sunshine. Three hours to read.

Or nap.

Often both.

The smell of cut green things and the buzz of insects unseen.

Raking, cutting, hauling.

Sweat forms on my back and arms. Sometimes I forget I have a body.

Bread still warm from the oven hits my tongue, conversation warms my ears. I discover a space for new friends opening in my heart.

After dinner we wander outside onto the deck. Table tennis is serious business here. Back inside boardgames appear on wooden tables, garnished by steaming mugs of mint tea.

The evening light hits the peaks across the valley.

Are they lit from within, finally revealing their hope?

Like one lovestruck, I can't stop looking at them.

Time to think. Time to work with arms and legs and back. Time to talk and time to pray. To laugh and play and eat. This is the simple recipe of restoration.

This is L'Abri.