Take a Share



I read a lot of poems.  I like some, I don’t get some, a few are amazing.  I ran across one recently in The New Yorker by Clive James that was in the latter category.  It is called Japanese Maple and the voice is an old man who contrasts his imminent death with the longevity of the tree outside his window.  He says, “Whenever the rain comes it will be there,/Beyond my time, but now I take my share.”

I read this morning about a Hindu monk who spoke in Madison.*  He advised listeners to greet each day with gratitude and to take at least 30 seconds to pay attention to the body and mind we have been given.  It would be like taking a share of yourself while you can.

In the marsh, we have egrets.  I have only ever seen them in Florida.  But several have stopped here this September.  I missed the pelicans – thirty of them, I heard – but Sandhill Cranes come and go each morning and evening as do geese.  I saw a heron land tonight at dusk.

A trail of ducks crossed the street from pond to a yard.  I tiptoed through them so they could continue their walk but behind me a young man on a skateboard clapped and disbursed them into the air.

While we all wait for the inevitable cold, the Honey Locusts are scattering their leaves like golden confetti.  Take a share of bullion while you can.

*The speaker’s name is Baba Shuddhaanandaa Brahmachari, and his most recent book is called, Making Your Mind Your Best Friend.


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