Standing in the Sun
Trees open curtain Shades
The comfortable-looking Cabin
Across the way, the fire already Warm
As I see the smoke rise from the Chimney
I think how nice it would Be
To live and be such as that, Simply
If I just could, would I Be
A happier Man
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How sad when even the most simple joys are beyond our grasp. I am starting to see and understand that now as I get older and my health less robust. Things that I once took for granted I no longer can and simple things take on a whole new importance. It's even sadder when we can see it but still know it's beyond our reach.
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Way of being when we get older; or just depression speaking?
Yemassee, I think you may have discovered the essence of this poem. Yet even I hope I'll not always fall short of simple pleasures of life in old age. Fall opens its customary depressive streak in me, one given to inactivity rather doing what I could to attain simple joys. The cabin, or small house as in fact it is, sits across the road from my little house. Seeing smoke rise from the chimney each morning through denuded trees, warms me, makes me want to get my own fire going even though I may not be able to sit before it long. I picture a life of simplicity there as a way of life, a goal for me. I think because I don't want to spoil the image, I've never crossed the road to meet the people who live there. Thanks for your insight. It's helped me see more clearly. T-hoeft
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That's really good, The grass always seems greener on the other side.
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Ah, Jack, simple joys,
not always as easlily attainable
as they might seem.
"Trees open curtain Shades"
Beautiful visual, Jack.
So good to read your words again.
Arty
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