When I came to this mountainside almost fifty years ago it never occurred to me that there would be an end to it.
I went along never thinking about the time when I would have to quit. I imagined—I guess — all this would last forever, if I imagined it at all. Now I’m in my seventies and all I can think about is the time when my life will be here no more.
For example, I love being in the woods felling and bucking hardwood trees, stacking and covering the blocks, then a year or two later, hauling them to the woodshed where I stack them again, and split them all winter long into the right size for the weather—then bring them into the house.
Now this chore I love so much is seriously painful, and I can see, now, an end to it.
This poem can be found in the volume, Tumbling Toward the End.
Think about how the poem made you feel. Do you feel the difference in your own body over time? Did you find yourself thinking about the time you have left, and making the most of it?
May you live out another beautiful poem in the collection of your life today, and we’ll see you tomorrow.