A Seasonal Magic
[Update August 4th 2018: This poem was written before the effects of climate change began to make themselves well and truly felt...as during this, one of the hottest summers on record worldwide, Even so, every season in our lives is reflected one way or another in nature. In the latter, the keyword is renewal so, yes, I have no fear of death; pain, though, that is something else altogether.]
Some years ago, I confided to friend (always an inspiration) on his 80th birthday that I sometimes felt scared of growing old. The lively 80 year-old in question told me not to worry. ‘Me, I think of myself as a tree going through its seasons, time after time, every one different and each, in its own way, as magical as any that have gone before,’ he said with a wry grin. .
Some years ago, I confided to friend (always an inspiration) on his 80th birthday that I sometimes felt scared of growing old. The lively 80 year-old in question told me not to worry. ‘Me, I think of myself as a tree going through its seasons, time after time, every one different and each, in its own way, as magical as any that have gone before,’ he said with a wry grin. .
‘What
about winter?’ I asked sceptically.
‘Time to
enjoy a good rest and conserve our energy for whatever (or whoever) may be just
around the next corner,’ came the unhesitating reply.
‘What if
there’s no one and nothing?’ I persisted.
My
elderly friend threw back his head and roared. ‘Well, if you’re that much of a
pessimist it’s probably no more than you deserve.’
We both
laughed, and I have never feared growing old since.
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(Image taken for the Internet)
A
SEASONAL MAGIC
Often, as
spring is fading,
I spot a
face in clouds I know well,
as sure
as a late lark working
the magic
of its ages-old spell
Often, as
summer is fading,
I hear a
voice in my ears I know well,
as sure
as a fine rain seducing
the trees
with its ages-old spell
Often, as
autumn is fading,
I feel
caresses on my skin I know well,
as sure
as a fair wind rising
to Earth
Mother’s ages-old spell
Often, as
winter is falling,
I
surrender to an embrace I know well,
as sure
as home fires reworking
what
passes for an ages-old spell
Where a
season’s colours fading
like the
dream we knew only too well,
other
lovers are discovering
the magic
of its ages-old spell
[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2012]
Labels: ageing, consciousness, fear, global, human, inspiration, life, love, magic, mind-body-spirit, nature, old age, personal space, poetry, positive thinking, raison d’être, relationships, seasons, spirit, time
posted by R. N. Taber | 07:54
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