Poem of the Day
CHANGING TIDES
Changing tides are coming my way
As time moves forward, what was decays
Fog up ahead, hinders my view
What lies in front is all brand new.
Change
I am like a chameleon, always changing colors; yet at the same time, I am like the woman in the Bible who kept looking back at her old life and finally turned into a pillar of salt because she would not go forward. Change is the fabric of my life. From a distance it looks exciting and I run toward it, arms outstretched, but I am bound by earthly salt, by that I mean, even though change seems to center around my life, when it finally comes to me, I fight it even if I’ve had a hand in it.
And change has brought with it things I miss; small things, things I used to take for granted like the smell of new turned dirt, or the sharp tang of sweet feed, or the softness of my horses muzzle against my cheek and the smell of her body all warm and sweaty under the saddle and the cold nights with a bonfire roaring and the howls and yelps of the coyotes ringing all around. It’s then I realize that my chameleon ways and salt pillar ways have turned me in directions I never thought I’d know.
Sometimes I yearn for the excitement of youth when my soul listened for things to come and the flying hoofs of a midnight horse could make my heart sing; when the waiting for that first love, the waiting and wanting and dreaming and when it finally happened, how my heart soared!
Then later, the plowing of the dirt and planting of tiny seeds and finally, an abundance of growing things planted and grown by my own hands; and the laughing of my kids and me when the turtle would come to steal a nip of tomato and scurry away. When the cats, and kittens, dogs and pigmy goat would push and butt us all off the path and run ahead of us making us laugh. And baby kittens all warm and fuzzy would come spilling out of the barn in a long line to meet us while the horses hung their heads low against the cold, cold wind waiting for feed while their breath mingled and mixed with the cigarette smoke wreathing round their heads.
But, that was another time, another place and then change came along, change that comes to all of us and old memories replaced with new memories and new times just as good.
CHANGING TIDES
Changing tides are coming my way
As time moves forward, what was decays
Fog up ahead, hinders my view
What lies in front is all brand new.
Change
I am like a chameleon, always changing colors; yet at the same time, I am like the woman in the Bible who kept looking back at her old life and finally turned into a pillar of salt because she would not go forward. Change is the fabric of my life. From a distance it looks exciting and I run toward it, arms outstretched, but I am bound by earthly salt, by that I mean, even though change seems to center around my life, when it finally comes to me, I fight it even if I’ve had a hand in it.
And change has brought with it things I miss; small things, things I used to take for granted like the smell of new turned dirt, or the sharp tang of sweet feed, or the softness of my horses muzzle against my cheek and the smell of her body all warm and sweaty under the saddle and the cold nights with a bonfire roaring and the howls and yelps of the coyotes ringing all around. It’s then I realize that my chameleon ways and salt pillar ways have turned me in directions I never thought I’d know.
Sometimes I yearn for the excitement of youth when my soul listened for things to come and the flying hoofs of a midnight horse could make my heart sing; when the waiting for that first love, the waiting and wanting and dreaming and when it finally happened, how my heart soared!
Then later, the plowing of the dirt and planting of tiny seeds and finally, an abundance of growing things planted and grown by my own hands; and the laughing of my kids and me when the turtle would come to steal a nip of tomato and scurry away. When the cats, and kittens, dogs and pigmy goat would push and butt us all off the path and run ahead of us making us laugh. And baby kittens all warm and fuzzy would come spilling out of the barn in a long line to meet us while the horses hung their heads low against the cold, cold wind waiting for feed while their breath mingled and mixed with the cigarette smoke wreathing round their heads.
But, that was another time, another place and then change came along, change that comes to all of us and old memories replaced with new memories and new times just as good.
posted by Mines Broken @ Tuesday, January 06, 2004
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