Poem: Life Itself


Life Itself

Allow me to, for just a while, sit.
Let the sun warm my blood.

I am content in the silence.
In the moment.

I have spent enough of my days
forecasting futures that never were.

It’s a fool’s game, a thief of moments,
a taker of love and tender touches,
and nothing good has come of it.

But this, savoring the sun on an autumn day,
is life itself,

About this poem

I am a very different animal from what I was fifteen years ago. I live far more in the moment, and it is a much more peaceful, happy place to be.

The picture was taken at Olana, the home of Frederick Church, one of the Hudson River painters of the late 1800’s.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s