Yes it is the Round-a-bout again I enter with all my defencive senses on alert, the Round-a-bout is a fearsome place to enter. Yesterday a little old lady, probably about my age came down the Borgen Hill and sped through my lane like she owned it; no slowing down, no looking, just clenching the wheel and looking straight ahead, she never saw me, and she never even acknowledged my horn. All I could do is slam on my breaks and lean on the horn, which I now know is not loud enough. I want one of those truck air horns; remember those. well from what I have heard they are now illegal but to my way of thinking they are necessary for Round-a-bout survival. When the Round-a-bout was installed I wrote this verse, it seems weak compared to the way I feel now. I know my life is in danger each time I enter the Round-a-bout.
My Life Has Been So Sweet
My body has aged, yet my mind is alert
I remember my youth
Back then, I was always in a hurry.
The smallest things were monumental
Issues were oh so important
Now with twelve grandchildren
A new peace guides my thoughts and wisdom comes slowly
I have learned the lesson of patients
I have truly became a woman at peace
That is until they installed those Round-a-bouts
Now I must confess my aggressions have returned
Each time I enter the Round-a-bout
I am no longer a sweet Grandmother
No one will leave me behind.
As I grip the wheel
My aggressive soul starts to boil
I‘ll fight for my slot in the Round-a-bout
The speed limit, surely they jest
How dare they honk at me?
Did he give me the? Oh dear yes he did
Why he tried to cut me off
Now my knuckles are white as I changes lanes
I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high
I move with careful intention and a new found aggression
Do not cut me off
It has become my creed
Now with my hands on the wheel I am super-charged
I am feeling alive and skilled at the wheel
Yes, my aggressions have come back
I have over come my fear there is no more hesitation
I can conquer them all
The Borgen Round-a-bout taught me how
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Edmonds Ferry to Kingston
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Leaves of God Fall 2009
My seasons have flown by so fast
I can hardly remember the details of my budding
I bloomed far too early forced by natures call
The flower of my youth stolen
My spring lost
I could not hold my bloom
As fruit required all my time
That season of summer went so fast
Consumed by my fruit youth slipped away
Never to swing freely in the warm summers breeze
I held fast lest my fruit should fall
Hot summer days turn to chilly nights
My fruit now ripe hear falls call
They release to face their own unknown
I watch as they fall free
My branches lift from their weight
I stand-alone the crisp air begins to blow
Indian summer comes with new love
I bask in the crisp sun light
My beauty is seen and shared
With the bloom of crimson leaves
My golden years begin
Too soon, I see my skin begin to shrivel
Youths golden beauty slips into grey
My hold on the tree of life seems futile
The frost of winter comes so fast
I hold tight lest I fall
So many leaves are falling
I watch as they let go one by one
My winter is here my time has come
The cold ground awaits my fall
The snows of winter cover my memory
Yet the family tree still stands
Spring will come
New leaves will unfold
The seasons of life begins again