12-19-2013, 01:06 AM
The Fearful Age
Along the creek we cast a cautious eye
at tightly tangled briars and thickened roots
threatening to trip us; we seek strong limbs
to pull ourselves upright, in deep red mud,
we struggle with the heft of heavy boots.
Far ahead, just past pitch pines and fir,
from rock to rock the children leap and rush
with harsh exciting river vast beneath them,
their shrieks and laughter linger in the air
to mingle with the calls of wren and thrush.
For when did we grow prey to cautiousness?
We, too, as youth ran wild among these trees,
building forest forts to play and dream in,
wading through the icy current depths
downstream from thoughts of danger or unease.
With wild exuberance of youth now broken, spent,
we rigid step away from pleasures calling;
how distant we have grown from confidence of early years
when we danced alone and raced through open fields,
back when we were not afraid of falling.
The Fearful Age
As we walk toward the river we cast wary eyes
at tightly tangled briars and thickened roots
threatening to trip us; we seek strong limbs
to keep ourselves from falling, the thick mud
swallowing, we struggle with the heft of heavy boots.
Far ahead, just past downed pines and brambles,
from rock to rock the children leap and rush,
with the harsh, exciting current loud below them
their shrieks and laughter rise into the air,
and blend with raucous singing of the wren and forest thrush.
When did we grow prey to cautiousness? We, too,
in youth ran wild among these vines and trees,
building leafy forts to dream and play in,
chasing water snakes and catching shining minnows
far downstream from thoughts of danger or unease.
With wild exuberance of youth now broken, tame,
we, rigid, step away from pleasures calling;
how distant we have grown from the flush of early years
when we danced alone and raced through open fields,
back when we were not afraid of falling.
_______________________
Walking by the creek we cast our wary eyes
toward tightly tangled briars and thickened roots
looming up to trip us; we seek strong limbs
to hold ourselves upright, the thick mud
pulling, grasping firmly at our heavy boots.
Far ahead, just past downed trees and brambles,
rock to rock the children leap and rush,
entranced by toads and backward sprinting crayfish.
Their shrieks and laughter rise into the air,
and mix with raucous singing of the wren and thrush.
Somehow we’re prey to cautiousness; we, too,
in youth ran wild among these vines and trees,
building leafy forts to dream and play in,
chasing water snakes and catching minnows
far downstream from danger or unease.
With wild exuberance of youth now tamed and broken
we, rigid, step away from pleasures calling;
how distant we have grown from the flush of early years
when we danced alone and raced through open fields,
back when we were not afraid of falling.
Along the creek we cast a cautious eye
at tightly tangled briars and thickened roots
threatening to trip us; we seek strong limbs
to pull ourselves upright, in deep red mud,
we struggle with the heft of heavy boots.
Far ahead, just past pitch pines and fir,
from rock to rock the children leap and rush
with harsh exciting river vast beneath them,
their shrieks and laughter linger in the air
to mingle with the calls of wren and thrush.
For when did we grow prey to cautiousness?
We, too, as youth ran wild among these trees,
building forest forts to play and dream in,
wading through the icy current depths
downstream from thoughts of danger or unease.
With wild exuberance of youth now broken, spent,
we rigid step away from pleasures calling;
how distant we have grown from confidence of early years
when we danced alone and raced through open fields,
back when we were not afraid of falling.
The Fearful Age
As we walk toward the river we cast wary eyes
at tightly tangled briars and thickened roots
threatening to trip us; we seek strong limbs
to keep ourselves from falling, the thick mud
swallowing, we struggle with the heft of heavy boots.
Far ahead, just past downed pines and brambles,
from rock to rock the children leap and rush,
with the harsh, exciting current loud below them
their shrieks and laughter rise into the air,
and blend with raucous singing of the wren and forest thrush.
When did we grow prey to cautiousness? We, too,
in youth ran wild among these vines and trees,
building leafy forts to dream and play in,
chasing water snakes and catching shining minnows
far downstream from thoughts of danger or unease.
With wild exuberance of youth now broken, tame,
we, rigid, step away from pleasures calling;
how distant we have grown from the flush of early years
when we danced alone and raced through open fields,
back when we were not afraid of falling.
_______________________
Walking by the creek we cast our wary eyes
toward tightly tangled briars and thickened roots
looming up to trip us; we seek strong limbs
to hold ourselves upright, the thick mud
pulling, grasping firmly at our heavy boots.
Far ahead, just past downed trees and brambles,
rock to rock the children leap and rush,
entranced by toads and backward sprinting crayfish.
Their shrieks and laughter rise into the air,
and mix with raucous singing of the wren and thrush.
Somehow we’re prey to cautiousness; we, too,
in youth ran wild among these vines and trees,
building leafy forts to dream and play in,
chasing water snakes and catching minnows
far downstream from danger or unease.
With wild exuberance of youth now tamed and broken
we, rigid, step away from pleasures calling;
how distant we have grown from the flush of early years
when we danced alone and raced through open fields,
back when we were not afraid of falling.
