When I was a little boy (seems like yesterday),
I understood deeply the meaning of time—
Passing like the water between my legs
When I waded in the creek, cold and clear.
With bright skies as long as the endless
Summer days, I could walk forever and
Never run out of fascinating things to see;
Beneath every rock was an ecosystem,
Every vista a microcosm of the universe.

The mystery of life was in the palm
Of my hand, like a wriggling earthworm
Gasping to return to the moist dirt.
I would whistle at young rabbits, with
Their ears twitching, and could walk right
Up to them, and birds would come to rest
On the fallen, rotting log right beside me,
Their songs filling the air with sweet music.
Both time and life were simpler then.

But now the days are short and
Over before I even know it, every one
Passing more quickly than before,
Like the sunset we could never hold onto.
And now when I’m in the garden digging holes
For seeds to drop, the robins stay away,
Playing invisible at the edge of the yard
Beneath the bushes; they act like
They never even knew me,
Nor I them, even though they see
The chopped worms trapped in
The dirt clods all around my feet.