When all about me golds and purples bold,
The finch and warbler, oriole on wing,
Slide in and out so swift, the song is told.
Then do I wish that I myself might sing
As once I did when youth was mine. I pray
My God to welcome seasons, wisdom, rest;
To bless the peace and sameness of my day.
East raises Life, age falls in oceans West.
Not one can change this cycle with their plea.
Nor should death come when suns have not yet set,
When voice is young and strong and eyes can see
The future long. Sweet age a gift and yet . . . .
While notes of joy each Spring can speak relief,
The brevity of life plays songs of grief.
by nina naomi
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