Spring part two

And what of me? where is my spring? my vigour?

My  youth  ?

"Childhood  lies in fragments scattered  remnants dismembered by

time”.

I search to find  the child, or was he lost

Irrevocably when experiences were no longer new,

Or does he yet live with in me, masked,

Protected  from “The winter wind”

His spontaneity too too..... for this world

Made shy

(Like the beech leaves soft velvet in youth Turned crisp by autumn)


A baby stares up at me as I write, not just

Any baby but my baby; a part of me,  I think  ?

I may no longer be a part of spring but feel,

Through  him, I have graduated  to be a creator,

In partnership with deity  ?

What responsibility!

And what sort of garden did I grow in to be

The man I am now?

What in childhood sets you in your hariness now?

How verdant is his garden?

How good a gardener am I?

Creator deity?

Arrogance!

Ah but is my  plane not set  too thick  to shave

The philosophies of  life to understanding

Or does it serve instead to choke the throat

With  thoughts imponderable, to seek perfection

And  find only insanity

For I shall  fail  him,

tis the lot of mortal imperfection.