The photograph of this Great Blue Heron is anonymous, sadly. I could not trace this internet picture to a specific site or photographer. Whoever you may be, I thank you for creating a beautiful picture of this gorgeous creature.
This love poem was written for my husband. We met in 1974, forty years ago. It really does seem like last year. Growing older together has been a gift to both of us. We have shared so much and grown so much. Love is the one constant in the equation we call life.
This poem is dedicated to my beloved husband and to all who have loved and been loved.
The link below will give you the option of hearing me read the poem. Click on it if you wish to listen. (It takes a few seconds to begin.)
On Growing Old Together
Will you scatter me over water
or throw me to the winds,
letting me float away?
Will your ashes mingle
with mine one day
when you too are gone?
Ashes to ashes…
Will you take my hand again
and hold me close against the wind?
Will your eyes always smile with mine?
Dust to dust…
Will our hearts travel as one
no matter where that might be?
Will our love be forever?
Ashes to ashes, Soul to Soul.
Yes, this is the second time you’ve seen this picture in my blog. It was posted with a poem, Daybreak, in late August and now it reappears to accompany a second poem it also inspired, Daybreak II. A single picture on paper, on the screen or in the memory has a powerful, persuasive control of our imagination. This beautiful photo by my friend and photographer, Yolanda Litton, has done just that.
Early Morning at Bagnegrole (Photograph by Yolanda Litton)
I’ve included an audio clip of me reading the poem. Click on the link below and wait a few seconds.
Waking up in at daybreak in the south of France
Is as if I were stepping into someone else’s life.
So far from my own home, this wistful morning fog
Rises slowly to reveal a house of soft honeyed stone.
The slope of a sharply pitched roof holds a tall chimney
Where the swifts are now resting after a long evening hunt.
Somewhere a rooster crows with the energy that only
The young can bring to a new day. Out of nowhere,
A soft gray cat tip-toes by, looks up at me and blinks
Its eyes in that inscrutable feline way and disappears.
I stand here leaning on the windowsill, wondering
What my life would be like had I been born here.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts up from
The kitchen below. One lone church bell rings
Calling its faithful to prayer. But nature’s beauty
Is my religion, my serenity, my salvation, my Eden.