i want to grow old with a place.
to measure past time by
the forest’s cycle.
to schedule my day by the season.
what is growing or dying
or dying to grow.
i want to expect the goldfinches
and be ready for their coming.
to prepare the ground
for the lilies awakening.
and be a hospitable host
to all living guests.
i want to rest with the winter.
to wait with wonder
for what comes next.
but sleep in the certainty
of the deciduous.
death won’t last.
i want to spend my years
on work which yields life.
to have a quiet mouth
and loud hands.
to be a means for peace,
giving more than i take.
i want my life to harmonize
the song of my surroundings.
to befriend time
and the work that she does.
to patiently love like her
and be watchful.
i want to watch a place grow old
to witness the slowness of life,
and realize the smallness
yet significance of change.
each leaf will lend it’s life,
becoming but soil.
i want to too.