Seasons again

Being preoccupied with the coming Australian election, I forgot this perfect contribution to writing about seasons.

When my daughter-in-law turned 30, someone commiserated with her, saying it’d all be downhill thereafter. My response:

Thirty

            Thirty is Summer.
            Not any more Spring, true…
            but tall grass blowing in the gentle breeze,
            and blue skies,
            and golden sun on golden sand.
            Just like you.

            Thirty is Summer.
            Not yet the Autumn wisdom of age,
            but no longer the foolishness of youth:
            the promise of growth bearing the fruit of experience.
            maturity not yet slowed into the tortoise of middle age.
            Just like you.

            Thirty is Summer.
            A good place to be in the journey through life,
            from the mountain spring of childhood past the daring rapids of youth,
            toward the wide slow strength of middle age,
            far from the final slow torpidity.
            Just like you.

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About Dr Bob Rich

I am a professional grandfather. My main motivation is to transform society to create a sustainable world in which my grandchildren and their grandchildren in perpetuity can have a life, and a life worth living. This means reversing environmental idiocy that's now threatening us with extinction, and replacing culture of greed and conflict with one of compassion and cooperation.
This entry was posted in poetry, Rhobin's round robin, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Seasons again

  1. Rhobin says:

    Loved your poem and the message you gave your daughter.

    Like

  2. Dr Bob Rich says:

    Thank you, Skye.
    I can’t write poetry on demand, only when strong emotion grabs me. This was one of those times.
    🙂

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  3. Now Bob, what you have to say about thirty seems fine, but your comparisons with the tortoise of middle age and the torpidity of old age seem strange coming from you. I am 85 halfway to 86 and spent the afternoon pickaxing and spading a row in fron of my porch (25 feet long) and planting snapdragons there. Drank extra water. Am now working on a review and a beta read for a friend. No ill effects. Tortoise-like? Torpid? Not on your life! 🙂

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  4. Skye-writer says:

    What a beautiful poem.

    Like

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