Poem: Aging Grace

Aging Grace

By Michelle Garren Flye

How is it that nature ages in grace?

How does the flower hold its charm?

Why does the gardenia smell as nice

When age has yellowed its form?

When the rose drops its petals

It reveals its splendid heart.

The darkened magnolia settles

To death with a very gentle art.

Oh why cannot we learn nature’s ways

Of passing quietly one season or four?

Instead we count and number the days

As if we are keeping score.

I hope we learn this skill as we grow older,

So in the end, we know how to be golder.

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Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem: Now That I Am In Mid-Fall

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Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Now That I Am In Mid-Fall

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

Fall has been glorious to date.

Full of lovely color and warm days.

Breezy enough to invigorate,

With sun highlighting forest byways.

 

Now that I am in mid-Fall—it seems corny—

But I might like it better than Summer.

Summer was too hot, too bright, too stormy.

Full of buggy, muggy days without number.

 

But oh, yes, there were good times, too.

Days by the pool, lazing out in the heat,

Then slipping into the water just to cool.

Laughter, picnics, and flowers by my feet.

 

Yes, Summer could make you a believer,

But now that I am in mid-Fall, I think

I enjoy the mellow more than the fever—

And on the vine, I still see roses growing.

 

Some say Spring is best with days warming—

Greening, blooming bursts in urban sprawl.

But Spring is needy, showy, always wanting.

I see that clearly now that I am in mid-Fall.

 

Now that I am in mid-Fall with dry, brown leaves

Crunch, crunch, crunching beneath my feet,

Like worn out, torn up, decaying past years,

And I laugh at the roses blooming as a treat.

 

I wonder if I might not like Winter even better?

When I’ve swept the leaves away and all is clear,

Fire at the hearth, chores done, no longer a quester—

Now that I am in mid-Fall, and Winter draws near.

 

It might not be too bad, I think, sipping cocoa,

Blanketed in Love, settled in a rocking chair.

Maybe roses bloom in Winter sometimes, too?

Now that I am in mid-Fall—falling toward Winter.

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Photo by Michelle Garren Flye