Another poem of mine inspired by the ever-changing weather of spring.
Like the moon in her many changing faces,
so my life ebbs, waxes, and wanes.
I feel at times as uncertain
as the Carolina weather
which we describe saying
“If you don’t like it, just wait … it’ll change”
I long to be constant as the long leaf pine,
steady as summer rain
falling thick in sheets upon some tin roof
as unmoving as the Smokey Mountains.
Yet I know
I am as ever changing as the fluffy forms
I watched upon my back, through momma’s Chevy car windshield
when I was just a boy–
a carousel of white forms ever shifting as they danced
through sky as blue as the Pamlico sound.
Unchanging I may not now or ever be
but I hope
my life’s shape to be as these to renew the weary.
Inconstant, yes, but not without serenity.