Foolishness

This past week I picked our last ripe red tomato and ate it with great joy and a little mayonnaise. Mowed the lawn for the final time, cleaned out the garden shed and taught my daughter how to fly a kite.

Then I wrote the poem I wanted to write.

MIDDLEAGE FOOLS

One more time
bring forth life.
Cut away the brambles
pull the weeds
turn the soil
to face heaven
and plant the seed
once more.

One more time
bring forth life.
Though the season
is nearly at it’s end
the fruit of the tree
will satisfy
for years to come,
different in flavor
from the others
but just as sweet.

One more time
bring forth life.
We will do
the prescribed dances
make the holy
Sacrifice
and mix its ash
with the sanctified waters
to bless the earth.

One more time
bring forth life.
I’ve seen the sign,
the Hawk and the Quail
have returned.
Hold my hand.
Together we will
gather the stones
rebuild the wall
carve some into
Totems
and make the garden
safe.

One more time
bring forth life.
Before we believe
the others
who tell us we
are too old to work the fields

Come. Let’s make
The Magic.