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Clearing Out Old Growth
 
Last week I cleared some old growth, ‘parting’ (1) planted in my yard,
An Avocado tree you’d grown from ‘pit’ of eaten fruit.
Tree’s color for your living space! But pots do limit roots
(Which leads to stunted growth) though I felt watered by your smile.
You left, at last, trees in the room, ‘first’ husband slightly scarred,
A good man too, who loved your aspect; (2) letting go, astute!
Best fight (to join) shares’ purpose’ (3) more than fresh or scarred recruits!
But did ‘Love’ lose? The truth, I think, was love evolved more style.
 
Though love oft plays on ‘tilted field,’ intelligence: Well matched!
I led by twenty-seven points, still sought to be a ‘pal’ (4)
(I twice divorced at forty-five) to flower just in bloom, (5)
My province: tenderfoot on tour, a ‘stranger in strange land’ (6)
With Russia thought our enemy! Yet peaceful plans were hatched
Amidst the pathos of this plight! “Show human face,” our rationale! (7)
Can thought exist that does not ‘rage at night,’ (8) reject love’s doom?
Though time may laugh at my expense, I still would “hold your hand!” (9)
 
Now in my life, I’ve found a love that’s soared beyond my dreams,
And poetry (that leaves me breathless), ‘hail verse (so) well met!’ (10)
We’re wizened now, blush gone, as well, from youth, prowess,
Might you or I take ‘second look?’ (11) I sigh! Was fault our age
Or more our ‘Age?’ Abundance lives in more than schemes!
Dreams too! (12) The world sees US wealth and hopes to vet,
To equal, and perhaps, exceed America’s success.
Quoth Shakespeare (paraphrased), “We’re all poor actors on life’s stage!” (13)
 
To work for love with no complaints suggests you value soup! (14)
In time you’ll find someone to love for whom love’s more than face
Or ties to wealth! Is love a boat that mortals commandeer
Or are we passengers at last who find “the play’s the thing,” (15)
That expectations strangle love that doesn’t flee the ‘coop,’ (16)
That no chain binds (or helps control) that rust will not erase.
The heart of Love begs you release all those you would keep near.
No prison built can hold a soul, but what-should-bees can sting! (17)
 
 
Brian Johnston
26th of October in 2019

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