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

Adam’s Second Day (waiting for Eve)

For him, tomorrow is another world.

But still he’d like to bring a god to…

Paradoxical in the Extreme

Evidently a man of coarse, even slovenly, personal habits, Au­den was as meticulous as T.S. Eliot in the precision of his verse.

Thaws

Around our March balcony tonight
Fog closes its slight hand — illusive blue —