A Last Stage opus 517
| 2 February 2025 0040 Hours | | Aging, Medical, Memories, Philosophy, Relationship |
Two days into a five-day rain spree.
No rain for all of January--a dry time.
But now all has suddenly changed--
Dark skies, cold wind, and a leaky ceiling to boot!
My days now--especially these presently are so different
From my past, busy and very productive life.
Sometimes it is hard to fill my hours,
But of course that is not really true;
I tend to my Betta fish, and feed lizards,
Check email, finish the mail returns, and have a bite;
Organize farm duties with Jessie, my 'man',
Then write what is in my head--
Juxtaposed with needed calls to help save my planet.
Evening comes and I can't bother anyone--too late for a call.
Such a different life from what I formerly had--
Farming, markets, fishing (with seines), flower harvest,
Educational boat cruises, and walks at Quail Ridge,
Constant fundraising, and creating an ever-new brochure.
How many more things, I might be able to recount.
My mind spins as I were at 40, but my body slows.
It is a dilemma I must absolutely get through,
But it is uncomfortable to be at all impaired.
I must make the best of things and do the best
That my weakening body allows.
I must stay in good spirits, not to turn off
My younger interactees.
I am full of life, but know that the end is slowly pending.