This birthday once meant retirement. The end.
Now, I’m told it’s just a number.
But that greeting card message didn’t reach
my eyes, knees and heart. They feel
like my brain – tired, nostalgic, inexplicably crying.
Tag Archives: aging
The Milky Way
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.
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.
