The Lens of Age
When you are old, you watch the raindrops hesitate before tumbling down the windshield.
You admire the ballet of leaves in the breeze.
You eat two extra cookies.
You are grateful for the kindness of young people; you look them in the eye and say, “Thank you”.
You want to throw a rock or fire a gun at those who would despoil the world for your grandchildren.
And you know that you are culpable every time you lie down to an air-conditioned sleep.
You still extend your arms wide to hold the earth and pray that love does indeed conquer evil, if only for a time.
You also know that Vishnu and Shiva, God and Satan, Harry Potter and Voldemort, live forever and ever.
And you are grateful that the fallen amaryllis leaf stands tall again after the rain.