Life at 89
At nearly 90 I am not, to say the least, as mobile as I used to be. I certainly cannot follow my serve into net! However, the mind is clear and the imagination, thank goodness, knows no physical limits and can be exercised at will.
In my case, one way of enjoying this great privilege is writing poetry. And as physical activity slows, the imagination ranges far and wide. I find I am writing more poems than I ever have.
Here are three examples:
White Caps in the Wind
white caps in the river wind the distance of the sky deep blue golden-veiled cloud-caverns drift birds in their beauty heart lifts and leaps flying as if dancing in simple happiness cannot count the blessings of this day the children laughing on the golden beach sun-parrots flying from the forest green when night comes sky necklace-filled pebbles of silver shine in the dark river a great peace comes over all the world is it forever this will keep and last? breathe the sweet wind long and deep raise my hands in praise and prayer
The Grandchildren Tumble Me with Bright Pillows
the grandchildren are joyous around me they laugh play tickle my neck last night silence lay in wait except one harsh sound of a night bird frightening me making me think of death after all this time after so much life a thin moon sailing in a black sky was not beautiful a scudding storm of rain came soon afterwards shaking my home my heart generations vanish like the morning dew but now the grandchildren are joyous around me they tumble me with bright pillows
Forecast
we are not what we fear we will become not yet anyway not sad not sick not nothing
I have risen with birdsong strong and healthy
“for my age” as old men proudly claim you have arranged the flowers made the coffee we sit and talk about the day to come old Cameron the gardener will bring his gold papaws told us about his harvest with pleasure in his voice we know the grand-children are visiting a great blessing exchanging stories about them we laugh into each others’ eyes it’s hard but we avoid the hate in headlines there are so many ways to love this world the time immediately ahead of us is very good outside we will walk amidst the red blaze of poinsettias there is the music of the wind in the tall trees let me say the earth is giving a good account of itself today and tomorrow and as long as we want to think we can forget completely what the old priest’s sermon said all beauty raised on high will also be thrown down