Don't know what's left to say about being deconstructed over the course of a year. So I'm posting work from my friend Mary Logue, mystery novelist and poet extraordinaire. She always sums it up neat and clean and beautiful at the same time.
When you reach the longest day,
first day of summer and perfect,
the air clear and dry,
the wind making all the flowers
nod at you again and again,
when you reach this perfect day,
do you wonder which of all
the days you’ve lived through
was the apex of your life?
As the sun circles farther south,
do you begin to slide? Do you worry,
knowing you will never be here again?
Or do you give up and lie like a dog
happy on the swing in the porch,
your belly exposed and vulnerable
to all the days that will come?
—from Hand Work
(You can of course purchase most of Mary’s work at Amazon or request it at your local bookstore.)