[stylist] Poem: Seasons

[myrnaspoetry at yahoo.com]

Bill, I so love the play on words (well, months) throughout this piece. But no worries about turning fifty.  I just turned sixty in September and aside for my recent illness I can tell I feel no differently. I still think and act as though I am not yet in the autumn of life.  
Myrna



> On Dec 15, 2014, at 9:37 AM, Bill Outman via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> 
> 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.  
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
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