Poem

For some reason I thought about this poem this morning, maybe because it's a cold spring day. I was thinking of traditional Chinese poetry, especially the poems in The Book of Songs, when I wrote this.

I.

“Caw! Caw!” sing the crows in the bare spring branches.
“Honk! Honk!” call the geese in the cold spring sky.

II.

At twenty-one my hair began to silver.
At the age of forty it was completely grey.
At sixty-five it’s white and thin.
I wear it short, my hair clips put away.

III.

At twenty-one I had ambition.
At the age of forty I wondered what I’d done.
At sixty-five the days move quickly.
I try to pay attention. They are too soon gone.

IV.

“Caw! Caw!” sing the crows in the bare spring branches.
“Honk! Honk!” call the geese in the cold spring sky.

I may have posted it on the blog before. If so, here it is again.