AS I AGE

 

As I Age

As I age, and

become quite old,

I spend time wondering about 

so many things, 

things that happened 

so many years ago.

I wonder about ,

friendships pursued, and

choices made, and wonder

if my life could have been

much better, or

even worse,

had I turned away, 

when faced with choice. 

Of course, now,

at this final stage,

it makes no difference.

Still, I can’t help,

but wonder…….

LEGACY

I've reached a juncture in my life realizing that much of what I thought I'd accomplished is on the brink of disappearing. The world has changed. It seems on the brink of disaster. Probably just an old man thinking, but I can't help but believe that there are thunder clouds on the horizon. I realized early in my career as an artist that I was no Michael Angelo, and that my paintings and sketches would be best served as a tool to help to encourage the protection and preservation of our natural heritage. I'm afraid that my efforts didn't make a lot of difference. Places where I roamed as a boy, places covered in trees and fields of clover alive with the hum of bees and insects of every description, are now covered in a sea of asphalt. There are people everywhere seemingly from every corner of the Earth, people interested in but one thing, survival. Preservation and protection of our natural heritage simply falls on deaf ears. Let's hope that I'm wrong, and that at sometime before it's too late, people will come to their senses. As for my art, my writings, I accept that they hold but a fragment of historical significance, hardly worth saving, and that they will ultimately serve as somewhat bio-degradable landfill, my legacy.

A Leaf Fell

There was a time, one lazy summer day when still a youth, I went exploring.

I roamed through fields filled with golden grasses, and wild flowers.
I watched as butterflies flittered, bumblebees bumbled, and honey bees buzzed here and there.

Beyond the golden field a forest grew, its darkness dampened sound.
From the top of a tall, old, tree, a leaf fell and drifted lazily towards the ground.

An errant breeze caught the leaf before it struck the ground, and swept it high up in the sky 

where it caught the wind, and sailed away, 

an adventure just begun.

I wondered as it sailed away, does a leaf, when it strikes the ground, make a sound?

I came upon a path less worn that travelled through the darkened wood. I stood, wondering, then slowly ambled in. It was quiet in the dark, dank wood. Not a sound.

I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the darkness in the wood, and came upon sights Iʼd never seen.
Toadstools, moss, and ferns of every sort lived deep within the dampness of this wood.

I got down on my hands and knees, and peered beneath the ferns. Everything was tiny, 

a completely different world. Snails, millipedes, spiders, and beetles, movement everywhere.

As I watched I wondered if those who lived within, would hear a falling leaf as it struck the ground.

I continued down the path less worn leading deep within the wood, exploring, observing, listening,
until the crickets sang their evening song. 

Doubting that I would ever go back, and wander down the path less worn, 

I made a note, a memory kept, and stored away, a reminder of a wondrous time, 

spent one lazy summer's day.

Forest Floor - Watercolour Painting