Special Time

Special Time
A paean to middle age

It’s that special time of year again
When Halloween is nigh.
The trees are turning color,
Flocks of birds are on the fly.
One day is gray and overcast,
The next one clear and bright.
The crops are mostly gathered,
Jack Frost visits in the night.

Another year has passed by
And I find myself still here...
Three-sixty-five days older
(Not much wiser for’t I fear).
But does it really matter,
When you take things overall,
If a man has missed the Nobel
‘Ere he’s seen another fall?

He travels down a stretch of time
The distance of a life.
With luck he has some young ones
With the aid of comely wife.
His body goes from boy to man,
From man to older gent.
His days, like pennies squandered,
All too soon are mostly spent.

Yet who would turn aside,
Lamenting seasons come and gone,
When crimson-bowered country lanes
Invite the traveler on?
With dazzled eyes we press ahead
(‘Though winter snows draw near),
Bewitched by all the beauty of
This Special time of year!