Volume > Issue > Old Age

Old Age

A POEM

By Anne Keith | November 1983

Accept the wind —

Insanity would fight it now.

It is no angel to be wrestled with.

 

Accept the wind —

Exalting in the ripping off of color

from the trees.

It deals in stripping and revealing

nakedness.

 

Accept the wind —

The time has come for seeing

Trunk, and limb, and twig.

 

Accept it with great joy

Knowing that God appointed sap

To rise again.

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY

SUBSCRIBE

You May Also Enjoy

Possessed

My God, I’m grieved to say it is not true:

Not true I desire naught…

A Stage Exists Someplace

When players voices no longer ring,

A set becomes a shabby…

The Bell Ringer

He disturbs

The sleeping bells, the stolid sounds

Locked in the iron tower

That hold…