Spring Rushes In

Young beets and onions a few years ago.

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Those Eternally Linked Lives 5 March 26, 2017

Spring, once it’s official, rushes in,
heedless, yearning again toward green,
blooms, seeds. I can never keep up.
I turn eighty in two months when
these seeds will offer me peas, beets,
onions, lettuce. I didn’t used to count
days, but now I do. Each day is a gift
we can’t give back, can’t save, can
only live as if it were our last. It
might be. Keep the heart beating
by using it and all my other muscles,
tendons, organs, nerves, bones. The 
body is wedded to the soul. Keep
the soul happy, and the body will
flourish, hold off death, warm us
after a walk, sleep hard; and once
awake, find us plenty of puzzles to
solve and conflicts to agonize over. 
Each time we penetrate fear, come 
through those annoying, pesky doubts,
we re-find our balance, see light ahead,
not so terribly far off.