Philosophy

Achieve satiety of living, the ancient Stoics say
Eating, sleeping, the act of love, suffice.
Don’t labor heaven with your sighs
Your days were numbered, fate was cried
Long before you ever saw the light
So they say, so I believe,
Sometimes, in the middle of the night.

Long hours before the dawn, tonight the moon
Is full, our longing for the sun
Brings summer to its end, throws
Wind against the mountains, mist on the boughs.

And yet there are chiles still to roast, mottled red and green
Cherry tomatoes still in blossom and in fruit
Morning glories deep candied purple
Hang over the busy hummingbird feeder
Where the little stoics seek their fill
Sipping day by day by day, until the cold,
The changing light, tells them to fly away.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae