Magnolia Tree

So much life is bursting forth,

the daffodils are in bloom,

but I am busy thinking about death—

How the magnolia that I sit beneath 

will outlive me.

Why am I and why should I?  When

the river runs unceasing, 

a well that will never dry...

So seemingly are my days 

unnumbered,

only if I stop not to think about 

the fragility of my own breath

Yet, somehow, by doing so,

I steep myself in sunshine

and my tea gets a little bit stronger.

I stand beside my screen door in the summertime 

like I did as a child

listening to thunder crack, 

awestruck 

I spend less time watching the hourglass, 

Instead I watch 

the first inch of daybreak, 

the first snowfall, first golden leaf—

I won’t miss it