Age

The gentle hum of an autumn day
Hangs in the air like an unspoken
Act of a gallant act of love
That strikes open the soul
Of Mother Nature herself.

On such a day as this
It would be easy to miss
The gentle nuances of a twisted core,
A Bramley ready to fly,
A leaf resting in sodden earth.

Here she stands,
In Earth that settles in the knowledge
That cold days must follow,
But for now the moment
Is to sit back and sparkle.

And how has age affected her?
Her skin is not what youth
Had visited upon her
As moss stretches across
Her still stretched form.

What is time that it might control her?
Where is the Morrow of death or destruction?
It will surely come
But why waste time
On such doleful thoughts?

The years have taught her
That to be kind and at rest
No matter what,
Is the truest way to live
As though eternity is a given.


A X