Determined Spring

Climbing into what is left of the quarry,
a few stalwart trees still hang on, defiant,
right to the last,
before the heavy machinery asserts its will,
insisting on growing, fresh and green,
insistent on living the new season
despite all evidence to the contrary.

About this poem

The abandoned quarry across from my house is abandoned no longer. Reopened for the first time since the late 50’s or sixties, heavy machinery is slowly tearing down the mountains of slate I loved to climb and walk between. Still, things grow there, right up to the place where they won’t. That’s where the picture came from

I work as a spiritual counselor a couple of days a week. It has taught me a lot about how I want to die – living right to the end, Some of my patients inspire me.

Sometimes I love aging. Some times I hate it. But there is good work to do, right to the end.

Poetry is never about one thing.

Tom