Of Endless Summer Days and Daffodils
My, how such long summers have past,
Slipped through eager fingers
Cast up in bright exuberance to catch the sun,
Whose rays have smiled upon more fortunate men
But now to me impress a more thoughtful surmise
That I, even when one of folly and youth,
Hath been blessed more than time can show,
More than one may hope to express
The gratitude which fills my being; pressing, urging,
I to be of even greater character
And thus have that much more to prove.
Breathless am I at the sight above,
Of stars so bright—one point of light
Among the such deep darkness encircling;
Consuming all radiance that one lone star
Might hope to exude—Of brilliance cast against
The stark pallor which is not pallor at all
But nothing more than nothing itself.
And yet! As dark threatens to overtake
Each one of billions that light my footsteps,
A single beam is struck forth, a shaft of light,
Piercing that which would conceal it.
Is this not but a metaphor of what one
Perceives of life? That through which all dark
Pasts, come the victor, the successor and all hope!
As all such preceding thoughts ensue,
When deep consideration drags across my mind,
And I am bemused by the conundrum
Of life and purpose, love, and loss,
I am heartened, enlightened, in fact,
That by faith’s good will, there is nothing
More refreshing than knowledge of simple
Times—Of endless summer days
And long winter nights. Of tree tops
That glisten and dew on the grass; the sight
Of each breath as it passes through our lips
On brisk autumn mornings and Daffodils
That float on the spring—Times that we most
Stop and reflect on our selves and listen to
The Nature that unites us all in her arms.
