So, with your news
The next generation is announced.
Yet barely formed
A soul finding its place in the world.
High summer, just turned,
The cycle of life drives on
As one branch slips towards infinity
Inexorable, the turning wheel turns.
Such pleasure is engendered
In knowing of continuation,
It’s also a reminder
What comes to walk this earth
Also passes back to the earth.
Pass me your garlands
That I may know the scent of wisdom,
Fresh flowers forming in the dark
Gathering strength to come into light.
The sweetest fruit
Comes in the continuation of the dream.
The sweetest fruit
Comes in the continuation of the dream.
What is there to offer in celebration?
A sheaf of rough poems perhaps,
Fresh minted as the air
Bound between leather covers
For another generation to read.
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