I look for a red giant tonight.
A star late in its stellar evolution.
In a cloud that’s not a cloud.
How old we are. How we want
a supernova ending. How difficult is dying.
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Tag Archives: aging
Tree Man
The solstice came, the days lengthen and
winter blows colder winds, but tree man,
a gentle soul, not a horror legend,
holds on to his brown autumn coat,
guarding the creek, watching me grow old.
What the tree leaves behind
after many autumns, winters and final fall
is rings – a dendrochronology of historical context,
environmental conditions, and possible future issues.
Earlywood, latewood, drought year, wet year, diseases –
no soul, but a body outliving life.
Tea in the afternoon under cherry blossoms
watching a hawk descending, We old men
have no regrets. Everything dies in spring
or another season. Lovers and stars part.
Brief seasons are long enough for us
to plant, grow, harvest. Petals like snowfall.
In a Cold Wood
A dog finds me resting roadside here
in the woods. He is all energy.
Collared but unleashed, he sniffs – finds me
boring and old – and launches forward again.
I pull up my collar. It’s cold.
