Poem: Just Water a Bit and Let Me Be

Just Water a Bit and Let Me Be

Each day the morning arrives a little

Later, a little cooler. The leaves are

Just a little off color, not much—

Edges of trees lose their green to tints of

Yellows, reds, oranges, and even some brown.

I find myself sweeping them off the steps

And patio every time I go

Out the door. Flower pots still

Need water and I oblige them but one

Morning I know they will be blackened

And I’ll be pulling them up and storing

Pots for spring somewhere in the mess from

Summer—hoses, pots, fertilizers, tools

That do me no good in drifts of snow.

I feel a little like those flowers these days

With all the doctor’s visits for my blood,

My heart, injections in my fading eyes.

They seem to be pruning me, a squeezing 

Out just a few more blossoms, knowing it

Won’t be long before the impending frost

Beckons to me, blackens me to where I 

Bloom no more. 

                           But just because I have less

Time, I know that my green’s fading and

I don’t have any problems letting my 

Colors show—oranges tinged with aches, yellows

Curling at the edges of my moods and

Sometimes bright red outbursts that drive the greens

Away. But they’re just tinges now, nothing 

Much to show I’m anything less than green

In my prime having plenty of summer

Left and plenty of flowers to spare you.

So, just water a bit and let me be.

September 2023

About This Poem

This poem is entirely about myself. I used the early autumn as backdrop to the reality of my aging. I love gardening and, like the plants in my gardening, I need a little tending. But, also like the plants in my garden, I'm not going to last forever and I feel it more now than I ever have before. The photo is of me sitting on a platform from an old building while waiting for the cross country race to begin. I no longer coach, but I volunteer. The monochrome is because I was just fiddling with my phone camera.