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On this cloudy afternoon
rain taps upon the window pane
a light yet quite insistant tune
which washes off the pollen's stain.

In my recliner I look out
from here in this familiar room
at new green unfurled all about
and see black berries are in bloom.

So these are the between days
between winter's cold and summer's heat
between crisp skies humid haze.
Cool weather is in full retreat.

Alas, this time is not my own
for I am in my later fall
when bones rustle with a popping tone.
I'm well beyond my harvest ball.

I see My winter before me;
what hair I have is white as snow.
I'm somewhat like an ancient tree
uncertain when, but sure I'll go.

But I have here in my lap
the very first day of a spring :
my grandson taking a small nap
who coos and smiles while he's dreaming.

So now I straddle two betweens
one of days and one of time
one of white, one of fresh greens
a final verse in a long rhyme.

Yet as my weight shifts toward days' end
and I gird for coming strife
there's a tiny bit of me I'll send
beyond myself : my grandson's life.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
I know the title sucks so feel free to suggest another
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Stan on becoming a grand father .It must be a great feeling and he is no doubt a lucky baby to have a poet grandfather.

Nothing to suggest but as you asked I would title it " An early spring this year"

Ps, S4 L2 you've an extra "the"


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words ........Robert Frost☺

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This started as a poem comparing the new of spring with an old guy thinking about his inevitable end and how the calendar said the balance point of spring was in place but the years the old man had lived through was at the balance point betweem being mature and being old. The poem seemed a bit on the hopeless side so I put in the promise a grandchild gives as far as passing one's genes along even though one wuill be gone.

Thanks for the typo spot, time to read and title suggestion................stan

author comment

I have to go out, just a quick comment - hopefully I'll get back to you later.

This one has a wonderful family feel, warm and tender. I can just picture you and your grandson in future days - sorry it's a short summary!

Keep safe

LOve Mand xxxx

Don't worry about a "quickie" comment. This only showed back up on stream as result of an edit and I didn't really expect any comments.............stan

author comment
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