Tomorrow’s Country
When the future
could imagine me,
all its promise,
projected
possibilities
unending.
Then I laughed
among its moment
measured years.
A place in time
where swallows stayed
all winter watching,
as spring unwound
to stop at
summer.
Now my summer’s
finite.
The spring unwinds
accelerating time.
Tracing on the face
of season after season
the fading green of
fullness unfulfilled.
Must every journey
to tomorrow’s country
bring with it now
this certainty of sameness?
Will every future
have to be imagined?
And in the act
will all its promise
turn to dust?
© James Rainsford 2012
Note to readers: Posted as my contribution to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Your comments are welcome and I'll try to visit and reciprocate to all who visit here and leave their views.
Kind regards to all who visit the pub tonight. James.
Such a wonderful write James--questions that I wonder about myself--
ReplyDeleteJames, I agree...wonderful write. The seasons pass so fast, don't they? In the blink of an eye. "The fading green of fullness unfulfilled" -- yes, so often true of summer. Last stanza..I do wonder too!
ReplyDeleteI like my summer to be infinite and never ending...sadly it is too short ~ Enjoyed the visit James ~
ReplyDeleteA powerful statement. I often wonder about tomorrow...and considering the layers of dust I must climb through from the disaster that was my past...I have to wonder if it's worth it. Each day lived brings with it more wisdom...and I hate to admit, more cynicism, especially regarding us...the supposed "stewards". The simplicity of your chosen language in this piece is incredibly deceiving...the write...is masterful.
ReplyDeleteYes, like the questions.
ReplyDeleteAn emotional ride. You took me from the ecstasy of possibility to the sameness to dust. Very well written. This degree of introspection took me by surprise. Wonderful.
ReplyDeletethe fading green of
ReplyDeletefullness unfulfilled....felt those lines in this man...and i guess eventually it all will be dust...and us....but we have until then to do with it what we will...
I love the first two lines; if only we could have stayed there. I enjoyed the way the seasons changed from one stanza to the next. (no pun intended) A very lovely piece.
ReplyDeleteYou touch a nerve, ever so lightly and sweetly here James--the days behind so many more than the days in store, the shadows they cast, that time itself casts on the days to come. One of the things about aging I've found hardest to deal with is that there are no more *good* surprises--all are variants, diminished in some way from the intensity of the past...thank you for writing so eloquently of these sorts of feelings here.
ReplyDeleteAs with all finite resources time at some point has a much larger value than it may have in the past, and it may seem as if the tap opens wider and wider as time goes on. This opens the door for our perceptions to place a positive value on the present and future, while placing a negative value to the past...or vice versa...
ReplyDeletedeep subject
Wander
Tracing on the face
ReplyDeleteof season after season
the fading green of
fullness unfulfilled....time is passing us by so swiftly. Nice capture and good questions...
Hi James
ReplyDeletea good question and an original way of thinking, lovely.
Yes, I suppose there is only one possible conclusion. the questions then becomes, What do we do with the time between onw and then?
ReplyDeleteNice introspective, James!
ReplyDelete