It Won't Grow Old
It won’t grow old
Droplets that linger on smeared glass
Delicate and strong
How calmly we drift as the thunder pounds
Against the backdrop of the smokey clouds
It won’t grow old
The wild grass that demands my attention
Bold strands
How innocent we become when the sun and wind dance lightly in the spring
The pompas sways as children play
It won’t grow old
The piercing silence that whispers as frost finds home upon a winter morning
How brave we are to rest
In the chill of the night we sleep
In the ever-changing seasons, we find a mystery
I race, always desperate to catch time
I grow old with each passing sun and descending moon
The vast, yearly turning of the infinite sky
scheduled on time as the appropriate month arrives
But a new wonder always awaits
We are bright in May
Dim in December
Free in June
Crisp in November
The same yet they move us onward
Images from seasons past carry with us as we look ahead to a new horizon
We sway with both as we transition
