Thursday, February 25, 2016

Too Late?



every year he drives down from Washington
parks his camper on the land
spends weeks watching the clapping of leaves in the wind,
how the river goosenecks in the valley, below
and he clears deadfall, walks
the land from all angles, envisions the placement
of a house just so
He has hands that have built things, thick-fingered
rough hewn, hardened
he knows tools: the axe, the pick, and the saw
he thinks of nothing else when he gets back home, to live in a landscape he loves, to create something new from the ground up, but...
But I'm 75, he says
and my son says why bother, insinuating
"you'll die soon"
...and I say to the man, so what?
I say dreams don't die until we're cold and dark, under
I say live that vision in your mind's eye
I say walk your dream, home


4 comments:

  1. Never too late, never. Do what makes you happy. It is in the doing that you are truly alive.

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  2. Yes, Mary. I love that phrase, it's in the doing. I'm finding that engrossing myself in my art makes me feel most alive and happy. It took many years to figure that out!

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  3. He's old enough, as I am, to have heard this. I still listen to it from time to time: just as a reminder. Clearly, you're taken the same reminder to heart.

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  4. When our dreams die, perhaps so do we. I like that you shared this wisdom with him, Monica.

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