A poem from the Camino by Laura

Soft rolling words

Remind me of Spanish hills -

How they rise slowly

Then fall,

Sending you tumbling

Over bumpy “r” ‘s

And smooth, double “l” ‘s.

In this garden,

We let our voices drop,

Like we’re in a cathedral.

Maybe there is something sacred

In the silence

And the way the evening sun

Floats through the fruit trees and paints shadows on the grass.