Tuesday 21 May 2024




I do think about the fact

that these trees will still be here

the day after I die

and all these young people

who outstep me on my daily walk.


“Just wait!” I mentally call after them

 as they charge the inclines in top gear.

“Your time too will come.”


But I will not be here to see that-

for I will either be six feet under

my flesh feeding the wildflowers,

the anemone and lady’s mantle


Or I will be ashes

some at least to be scattered

on the West Coast of Ireland

where the Atlantic flings itself into Derrynane Bay-


And though I have not yet decided

on burial or cremation and time is running out

I have romantic notions either which way I go-


And after all this morose browsing

I determine to drink less wine, eat my five-a-day

and circumnavigate the park one more time

but at a much faster pace.

Copyright 2024 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

1 comment:

  1. It's strange, isn't it, how we don't think about our own aging and mortality for most of our lives, then it seems to be the only thing we can think of!