As I gaze upon the landscape and the advent of fall colors and cooler mornings upon us, I create mental images. Without skipping a beat, my creativity turns to poetry and so today’s blog entry features my musings.
An ethereal world
I loathe discussing
age-related matters and
wonder why I react the
way I do? Is it important
in the big scheme of things?
Like the season, I suppose
I am now in the Fall of life.
Just as colorful as the leaves.
Why then is it difficult to face
my own mortality? Like my parents
before me, I continue the journey,
trying to make the best of circumstances.
I smile as I ponder what life has
afforded me: family, friends, love,
health and happiness. Elusive at times.
Grateful to still be teaching with a passion,
I remain resolute and trust that
things will work according to plan, whether
or not they fit my time schedule. So
don’t ask my age. Does it matter?
What matters to me are more
ethereal concerns: the beauty of
nature and people. How we live
our lives to their fullest measure.
My poetic imagination allows me
pause for thought and to
answer mundane questions
with humor. It matters.