Variations on a Theme
A pair of warm days in February,
a tease, a promise
of new seasons.
There are buds on the lilacs
and the grass begins to green, freed,
if only for a brief respite
from the tyranny of snow.
Past the quarry,
along well-worn paths, constantly
looking for new sights
in familiar territory.
You are not good at sameness.
You have learned this truth over decades
of change, chosen and enforced,
that your themes are few,
you variations endless.
About this poem
I have come to understand that I have just a few themes in my life, a few things that constantly color my life and my creativity.
And that’s OK. I don’t need to be everything to everyone. I have become happy being what I am, and owning it, constantly tinkering and discovering more and more in less and less.