Growing Older

There has been one marked change since I started this writing a poem a day lark. I am waking up earlier even though this is the season when I should be making like the bear and snuggling in for hibernation.  I am noted for not doing speech in the morning for about two hours and two cups of caffeine into the day. I am now one cup of green tea into the day and an hour and a half awake and I am already posting my poem for the day.  The silence remains the same, except I am talking (in a way) onto a blank page. While I am putting on the kettle, I felt excited. I had no idea  what would happen in my poetry practice. And then I felt grateful that I am finally seeing a few sunrises, having been an habitual night owl from birth (arriving at 1:14 am.) And maybe I am seeing both sun rise (at least in winter!) and sun set because I am older and have a very flexible schedule.

So, here is today’s poetry practice. I decided to go back and flex the end rhyme muscles since I have been in a syllabic and blank verse kind of groove the past few days.

 

Growing Older

 

Is it because I am growing older

that I am grateful for the being both

night owl and morning lark? I am bolder

in noticing  minute changes, season’s growth.

 

I see moon rise in the east, set in west.

Likewise, the sun in its diurnal round.

I feel more curiosity and zest,

the peace that my being found sacred ground.

 

Maybe the beauty of growing older

is your becoming less and more spellbound.

Less time sets priorities. Be bolder.

You have seen it all and then turnaround.

 

Some patience made me persist to elder,

but also the gift of taking some risks.

It has made me an abler author

of life before time for the obelisk.

 

I am grateful for the beauty of each day,

the rising of sun and moon, how they set.

It prepares me for the final doorway

when I shall become one with that sunset.

 

Copyright © Bee Smith 2018  |

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