Old Age Comforts with Ageless Youth

I wander to the creek’s bridge of my youth, pondering

Abiding truths, bridging memories from past to present,

Now a misty perimeter, grass-infused, sunk along the willow bushes;

Watch mottled waters submerging mossy weed shallows,

With milky dapples of musty umber reflections of cloudy blue;

See spikes of sunburned grass tipple the water strider’s rings,

As two dragonflies, glinting turquoise on silvery wings,

Flit by the muted shadows under bridge boards with wide cracks,

Where once my fishing line descended to hook the speckled trout,

And, by that bend, once, young legs kicking and splashing sand,

And hands holding small peeking frogs from bulrushes, now silent.

Smiling, I see the creek has also stagnated, creeping into underbrush,

Knowing age is but soft ripples of memories on a submerged lifespan

That brings some solace of comfort, suffusing age into reality,

Imbuing feelings of carefree youth still enduring as quiet eddies

And gentle thoughts that define age as non-existent.

Later, closing my eyes, I seek the creek again ... the bright g leam

Of the speckled trout, the green frog’s pulsing throat, f inger gripping,

And the dragonfly’s wings flashing a link to ephemeral time.

Old age aches, groans and finds some comfort embracing youthful freedoms

Building a forever bridge from play, love and happiness to last a lifetime;

Be so young once, befriend nature, let aging be a solace and a comfort.

Annemarie Berukoff