[stylist] Poem: Seasons

[Bill Outman]

Good morning, list.  

 

Over the weekend I wrote a poem on the occasion of my fiftieth birthday,
which is tomorrow.  The bulk of it came together in about an hour Saturday
night and I revised it yesterday morning after church.    It uses the
calendar to discuss thoughts about this stage of my life.  

 

It appears below my signature.  

 

Bill Outman 

 

Seasons 

 

Buried ddeep in December 

The old song says "Try to remember the kind of September."  

But not in summer things seem out of tune.   

My life's meaning and purpose appears jejune.   

 

With each year's dying ember, 

I am left trying to find a rich Newvember.  

I fervently hope and pray 

For a new spring that says I may.   

 

I wonder and ponder, "Do I have the starch 

To sustain through time's inexhorable long march?" 

I feel slightly lost passing the age of fifty, 

A thought that isn't very nifty.  

 

But if my thinking and actions are sober 

I may harvest a stable and solid rocktober.  

So if the Lord's strength lets me live full and robust, 

My mark in history may be known as august.