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Nature’s Pomp (On Turning Fifty)


Go ahead, flaunt your glory.

You’ve earned the moment, after all

So many months of fallow,

Empty bough and pallid hue

Aren’t who you are

So throw off all constraint –

You were meant to be brazen.

The long sleep is over; freedom grins

And crooks its finger, “Come on!”

Creation yearns to celebrate

So let your cloistered bounty bloom –

This is what you were made for.

Your Divine purpose beckons

Its splendor is unveiled

Like spring in all her glory,

It’s your season to rejoice –

After all, it’s who you are!

G.F. Cantrell

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