April 26, 2011:  Year Forty-Nine

{Forgive me for double dipping the blog with the poem. If you don't like that, go ahead and sue me!}

Tomorrow starts a fiftieth year
That's got to be better than the last
When I learned I should look back
And assess what's there,
To beware both the snake and the mongoose,
To not expect cake when the giver
Only recognizes take and mirrors
As presents worthy to bear.

Within the year of creeping forty-nine
Much was reinforced, almost as much
Was resigned, left behind, a pot of gold
Sitting on the table declined
For the wolves with their suits
To dispute line by line
In a pursuit to see smoke and ashes
Wherever there was only a joke.

But every book turns a new page,
No matter how few might be reading,
And as I note my age through
Lines around my face and my trunk,
The truth is that a seedling
Is planted, supplanting the dying tree,
Roots unstable, leaves long fallen,
Teetering dangerously.

Time has come to stand in a field
Rich in crops and strong in hope:
No scarecrow here, nor gleaner,
But a member of an oxen team
In a new season, not dry,
Full of promise, not empty words,
Clean of mind and free of burden
As these lines close year forty-nine.