At nearly 90 I am not, to say the least, as mobile as I used to be. I certainly cannot follow my serve into net! However, the mind is clear and the imagination, thank goodness, knows no physical limits and can be exercised at will.
In my case, one way of enjoying this great privilege is writing poetry. And as physical activity slows, the imagination ranges far and wide. I find I am writing more poems than I ever have.
Here are three examples:-
White Caps in the Wind
white caps in the river wind
the distance of the sky deep blue
golden-veiled cloud-caverns drift
birds in their beauty heart lifts and leaps
flying as if dancing in simple happiness
cannot count the blessings of this day
the children laughing on the golden beach
sun-parrots flying from the forest green
when night comes sky necklace-filled
pebbles of silver shine in the dark river
a great peace comes over all the world
is it forever this will keep and last?
breathe the sweet wind long and deep
raise my hands in praise and prayer
The Grandchildren Tumble Me with Bright Pillows
the grandchildren are joyous around me
they laugh play tickle my neck
last night silence lay in wait
except one harsh sound of a night bird
frightening me making me think of death
after all this time after so much life
a thin moon sailing in a black sky
was not beautiful a scudding storm of rain
came soon afterwards shaking my home my heart
generations vanish like the morning dew
but now the grandchildren are joyous around me
they tumble me with bright pillows
Forecast
we are not what we fear we will become
not yet anyway not sad not sick not nothing
I have risen with birdsong strong and healthy
“for my age” as old men proudly claim
you have arranged the flowers made the coffee
we sit and talk about the day to come
old Cameron the gardener will bring his gold papaws
told us about his harvest with pleasure in his voice
we know the grand-children are visiting a great blessing
exchanging stories about them we laugh into each others’ eyes
it’s hard but we avoid the hate in headlines
there are so many ways to love this world
the time immediately ahead of us is very good
outside we will walk amidst the red blaze of poinsettias
there is the music of the wind in the tall trees
let me say the earth is giving a good account of itself
today and tomorrow and as long as we want to think
we can forget completely what the old priest’s sermon said
all beauty raised on high will also be thrown down
