Afterglow - John Field

Such a glorious afternoon: 

Leaves shining brighter than the artificial lights 

On Broadway's highest marquees, 

The kind of theatrical foliage that makes little boys 

Leap high to shame the earth its stationary ways. 

Overhead a single sailboat gliding slowly across the skies. 

Look up there! A flock of migrating geese 

Honking their wild way home. 

In my garden huge chrysanthemums 

And roses still in bloom but overblown, 

Their petals wearing so much outrageous makeup 

They remind me of the painted cheeks

Of antique ladies playing bridge and sipping tea.

Once I searched for slow beauty 

To save me from the quick quick years I'd wasted 

And found it decorating the walls of the Prado 

And the Louvre-before I raced off to Portofino, 

Santorini and all the other grand places 

Recommended in the travel books. 

Now I'm growing old, have been for years and cranky too 

Each time my body recites its latest list of grievances. 

"Traveler, turn back!" the sky cries out to me

Whenever Sinatra sings come fly with me. 

Cramped seats? Jet lag? Fat chance. No thanks. 

I'd rather stay at home anchored to my shadow 

Treading water in the here and now. 

Wake up in my own bed and watch 

The blue arch of morning rise above the hills 

And lavish its beauty on our valley 

In the unfailing chronology of changing seasons 

For a few more years if I'm lucky 

Until life informs me I've had my share 

And am no longer needed here. But not yet. 

Not until my mind turns into a guide

Which has at heart my getting lost 

In that vast and lonely emptiness which separates 

The real world from what is not. 

Heaving a sigh, my soul will say goodbye 

And take its one-way trip to kingdom come, 

That secret, strange and peaceful place 

They never mention in the travel books

Where nothing ever ends, begins, changes or becomes.