Cold, rainy day ~ we followed directions to the Mariposa Museum from a postcard I picked up somewhere, sometime, years ago.
We drove back roads through Franklin, Salisbury, Webster. We tried to remember names of people we once knew. Gerry somebody from the Launch program at SYC. In Webster, we saw the elementary school where Cat taught Kindergarten and where Barry played pennywhistle and sang "Flop-eared Mule" with her class.
The bridge to Main Street led us into a timeless space where we discovered familiar landmarks and the magical Mariposa Museum, an apparition of beauty and diversity.
Puppets. Drums. Gongs. Clothing and jewelry. Artifacts from around the world.
Books. Maps. Games. Textiles.
The museum is a collection, a celebration, a prayer for Peace, the Earth and its Peoples and Creatures.
My dreams and beliefs,
my love and delights
made visible
Stories and legends,
antiquities of a shared
humanity
These are my riches,
my treasures
beyond measure
On a cold and rainy
June afternoon
at the Mariposa.
1 comment:
Remarkable place, pictures, poem!
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