Thursday, October 6, 2011

Twenty-five, Fifty, Sixty Years


Everyone should be born into this world happy and loving everything.
But in truth it rarely works that way.
For myself, I have spent my life clamoring toward it.
Halleluiah, anyway I'm not where I started!

And have you too been trudging like that, sometimes almost forgetting how wondrous the world is and how miraculously kind some people can be?
And have you too decided that probably nothing important is ever easy?
Not, say, for the first sixty years.

Halleluiah, I'm sixty now, and even a little more,
and some days I feel like I have wings.

Mary Oliver for our Jubilarians

Our gardens slowly fading into autumn.