“Now! says Time, and lifts his finger,and the leaf on the lime may not linger.
When Time utters Now! and lifts his finger, the oakleaf flutters and drifts…” E. Farjeon
I’ve been busy–I suspect you have been too. My words have been flying in all directions but here…from multiple book proposals to writing a new novel. However, my heart for you readers is steadfast. And maybe like you, Time has spoken, “Now!” And a certain work or hope or dream cannot be delayed. A message must be written, delivered…
The fall of the leaf is a whisper to the living–Russian Proverb
The withered parts of yesterday, once ripe with promise, also need to be released and tossed behind us… We’ve taken what we’ve needed, the remainders are for the birds.
Or maybe, like me, you’ve held onto lovely summer roses to treasure for a time…a hint of fragrance remains, a mark of a romance continues on… I see stories in those blessed blossoms! These are pink and wrinkled, like an old woman’s hands. And like many old women I know, they’ve given their all, and are unspent…They are too wise to despair the calendar.
On Veteran’s Day, I gazed at my row of muses–these 1880-1900’s women, some with babes in arms, and realized that they would have been the praying mothers and grandmothers of World War I and II, straining their eyes at the horizon to see their sons and daughters home, safe.
I often think of them stuck in the time period I’ve chosen to write and not the complete lifetime they would have lived. But exactly as the picture portrays them: decked in apron-skirt dresses, velvet, and lace. Laughing over a silly limerick or what they had to do the get the toddler boys to sit for the photographer…yet they lived beyond this bulb-flash minute and moved right into another life, the evergreen one (I sincerely hope!).
These little remnants are a whisper to the living…and to me as I scribble out imaginary stories about their lives and the human condition–the one thing that hasn’t changed–and offer that evergreen-hope.
God bless you all,