photo by Collyn Ware

On The Occasion Of My 65th Birthday
 
At the edge of the pond:
a single leaf,
a mottled mess
of green and brown and gold
lies beached upon the sand.
 
It has sailed the waters
of better days.
With chlorophyll coursing through its veins,
it once steered bravely into summer,
trolling the shoreline,
easing into deeper water until
the tides of sun and time pulled it here
to rest among the rocks.
 
I, too, am mottled and beached,
my sailing days over,
my mast graying
and spineless.
 
True, there is rest in dry-dock:
a life mostly lived, the years floated out
and returned to shore.
 
But oh, the waters of better days!
The sunny soul of them!
The greening promise of tomorrow
and tomorrow!
The taste of sweet tempests
that whip the world with abandon!
 
Let these waters rock me.
Let them roll in glorious waves that pound my final years,
oh, let them roll.