I Will Wait
|A profusion of color, or dull confusion?|
Photo taken at Fremont Street, Las Vegas
She knows it is time.
The waiting is over as her
feet trail along well-worn steps
in an increasing haze of confusion.
At the landing she pauses to
survey the familiar room below.
Wonders if she could delay just until
the last pie cools on the twisted wire rack.
Sugary apple syrup
bubbling over, sizzles on
aluminum foil inside the oven.
Certainly, no need to hurry anymore.
Smoke billows suddenly and without
warning. Perplexed, she listens to
the harsh ring of the telephone,
or maybe what she hears isonly the treacherous
buzzing of the
Best now to stand right here
And greet the inevitable.
It is past time.
Betrayed by the failing mind of age, thoughts shift and bend until the normal patterns of life masquerade as puzzles that confuse.
* * * * *
With the energy expectations provide
Waves splash the summer shore
In independent harmony
With the sounds
Of childish delight
Idealistic shards of
Yellow, orange, and red
Blanket a pregnant earth
In breathless anticipation
Nature regenerates in white slumber
Absorbing a universe gone before
Knowledge shared, to thrive
In the next half century
Each season offers unique insights and varied delights for adults and children, marking a pleasant though relentless passing of years, leaving ever more obvious traces of time spent and wisdom gained.
* * * * *
The Next Half
with expectant wonder,
she counts crystals in each
fills her mind with lightning,
trapping future visions in
the pulsing beat
Joie de vivre is coursing
through her bloodstream,
focuses on wave-tossed
beaches, and trade winds
Have you reached the half-way mark of your life? Maybe you haven't yet decided when that time will be. Death isn't something we normally dwell on, or discuss daily. But whether discussed or ignored, it is inevitable. Life expectancy can reasonably be set at 100 for many people. Therefore, 50 is a practical number to choose as a half-way mark. 50 cents is half a dollar. 50 years is half a century. Once you start looking at it that way, half a century, you realize that time does indeed pass.
Joie de vivre is coursing through her bloodstream . . . let it course through yours, also.
N o w !