2016/calendar

Old as I am,
I still love turning over
the calendar.
The hope of a fresh page
always stronger than the loss
of time that has just passed.
First day of my birthday month,
approaching seventy,
for the first and last time,
(a profusion of) pink roses
shades a pebbled path,
most of them the passionate pink
of crape myrtles,
but some a faded pastel.
Even a few that are yellow.
A narrow path
curving gently to the right,
where it’s going
just out of sight.

9/1/16