One More Day

 

My beautiful granddog Smokey

While I live at a snail's pace, the world

whirls by: burly men revving engines,
too impatient to stop at stop signs,
so they roll through. As I hobble

across the intersection, one roars right behind me,

so close the wind moves my jacket.
He will get there four seconds sooner,
irritated and bothered,
not having learned to rest a moment
and enjoy seeing his fellow humans
passing by.

I am the Observer now, watching the world careen:

wars, escalating tensions, everyone focussed on

outrageous rhetoric  as the climate crisis
carries on warming, burning, flooding -
nature screaming at humankind

to wake up: our house is burning down.

My days are slow but the weeks fly by.

Everyone is busy living, all are exhausted,

midst the uproar coming at us on our tv screens,
the very opposite of peace and tranquillity,
which can be found outside,
in the forest, by lakes or rivers,
or the glorious sea,
or even out front in my rocking chair,
basking in the sun.

Each morning I wake up and think: one more day.

I am grateful. I know there is a due date

when I will be returned to the earth and the sea

and the sky I have loved so well.

One more day to watch bees buzzing

around my flower garden, to pat doggy heads,

give them treats, and see them smile their doggy smiles.
One more day to sit in the sun

as this busy world slowly turns itself 

into the oranges, yellows and reds of fall.
A gift.

for Sumana's prompt: The March of Time at What's Going on. Time is marching in quick-step these days, even though my own pace is slow.