At Fifty Five
You wake up another year older, feeling
different, yet not different, aware
that on this day, late in the evening,
you emerged whole and unformed,
and you are surprised how, at fifty five,
there is so much left to form,
so much left to treasure, how
the sound of songbirds through your window,
and the moist summer breeze that caresses you
as you lay on the fresh sheets
are one day more precious.
as close your eyes and see
the past, possible futures,
love and loss,
hope, fear, anger, peace, all part of the brokeness
that is you.
This is my birthday poem. Tonight at 9 PM, I am fifty five.
The picture was taken at Hildene, in Manchester, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.