18

for P.

Whatever breathes a gentle heat
upon the animate form of things,
to let a new life glow complete –
whatever sparks, whatever springs
a gloriousness on smatterings
in space – whatever takes the stage
with all a mind’s imaginings . . .
be yours now as you come of age.

Whatever prompts a soul to greet
the Earth upon its wanderings,
to touch the grass beneath the feet,
to soar and dive with skylet wings
from sea to land – whatever brings
a stillness, too, to turn a page
of quiet, beside Earth’s cherished springs . . .
be yours now as you come of age.

Whatever listens to the beat
behind a heart’s drab sufferings,
and laughs at that and finds it sweet –
as when at times a wild wind swings
through roaring skies – whatever flings
itself to a creative rage,
in freedom of art’s offerings . . .
be yours now as you come of age.

My breath of life – whatever sings
Time’s loveliest note – as you engage
at heart with all its happenings . . .
be yours now as you come of age.