I’m not moving much today, but my mind is rambling,
Thinking, in the present, of the past and the future;
The past with some fondness, some regret and pain,
The future with anticipation of all things not yet done.
Reflections of the past haunt me, as they haunt us all,
All the friends gone on, and ones remaining but lost,
However, to me, in place and time, with young faces,
Dim memories seldom summoned down dark traces.
The years of childhood, filled with happiness, truly,
But also with hauntings of things rather forgotten;
Of knowing no want, and not missing the things which,
Not having, I did not have the knowing to yearn for.
But, oh for the future! That is another thing entirely!
That’s where my daydreams, well-watered, grow,
Where all the things I dream of doing are going onward,
And all the projects and creations are doing, or done.
My list is far too long, I’m sure, for the span of life I,
Recognizing eternity, may have alloted to me by God,
Who only, alone, knows my ‘going home’ date and hour;
But I’ll try many, do some, and continue to dream!
Perhaps it is the dreaming, the mind’s creative roots,
Which are the most pleasurable, even more so than,
Finally, the fulfillment in tangible being, touchable,
And do we ever cease to dream of the next adventure?
Yes, my list is long, but I am tenacious, and I will go,
Stubbornly, onward, for I am a stubborn child of God,
And no aches and pains deter me when I am in midst,
Doggedly, of my creations, of the works of my hands.
No arthritis will stop these hands and fingers from the,
Long anticipated, tasks which I have assigned them,
Over and over, in my dreams of creative objects laid,
End to end, or stacked upon one another, in my mind.
Some say, ‘Oh, retirement will kill a man, death sure’,
But my list is so long, of things I wish to do, of places,
Far and near, I wish to explore, to embrace, to store,
In my cavernous catalogue of experienced memories.
When I board the final train, I want to leave behind,
As I suppose all men do, in great or small arenas,
Some tangible evidence of my past earthly existence,
Perhaps some day to grace an antique shop window!
But more so do I want, now, in this present lifetime,
To fulfill all those dreams which so faithfully recur,
To know the satisfaction, which I have often enjoyed,
Of doing something new, and doing it as well as I can.
And then there are the dreams of time spent, freely,
With my dear wife and my children and grandchildren,
Unencumbered by schedules or demands upon me,
To bask in the luxury of their love, and mine returned.
I’ve found the sweetest love is innocent grandchild love,
So bold, forthright, unconditional, unabashed and free,
But the warmest love, the kind that warms the heart,
(And old bones, cold nights) is that my wife gives me.
Too, I’ve found, that the older I grow, the more love,
God-given, I have to share with others, whether dear,
Or distant, constant or just passing through on their,
Own, special, travels through the fleeting mist of life.
Then there’s the knowledge, lately gained and gifted,
That serenity is to be found, in abundance unknown,
Just by placing my life in the hands of that great God,
Who watches over and loves us all, both lost and free.
This, the spiritual knowledge that overcomes the world,
As good old John teaches in his ethereal writings of old,
And sets us free, free indeed, understanding that we,
Without merit, merit His love through our Lord Jesus.
So, my old mind wanders between things of my dreams,
Of my workshop and projects yet undone; sometimes,
Perhaps, not even yet conceived, or conceived, forgotten,
Of work on our old antebellum home, needing attention,
Of beautiful grandchildren loving, chattering, playing,
Of gardens and flower beds, tomatoes and purple iris,
Of sons and daughters I regard with pride and concern,
Of my dear wife who bears me up, and with me bears,
Of neighbors and needs, of charitable deeds awaiting,
Of the magnificent coast of Maine, near Georgetown,
Of Chilton County peaches, yellow sweet corn, and peas,
Lord, how blessed we are, pass the cornbread please!
Of mountain streams and Gulf Coast breakers, both,
Freely bringing our Creator to mind, Creator of all,
Of tender green in Spring and rainbows of color in Fall,
Oh Lord, how blessed we are, just to think of it all.
So you see, dear friend and reader, I’m not moving,
Today, very much, with heavy rains falling outside, and,
Unhappily, me nursing a cold, with aches and sniffles,
But my mind is rambling, going where it wishes, free.
Lord grant me life sufficient to see those grandchildren,
Precious gifts of old age, grow, mature and succeed,
Hopefully to give them nurturing love and refuge,
And with my dear wife to dream through our old age!
Amen.
