How is it that I studied my children at every age,
drank in their constant remaking,
yet missed my own?
Meanwhile, I too was being remade
with my own fleeting epochs.
Fresh faced, dewy eyed twenties
the Movie of My Life
No hurdle too high as I
dashed around the world.
Crossing coast to coast for love in my thirties,
learning to share (again)
Joy and longing and sorrow mingled in one cup
children spilling into our lives
with a breathless overtaking.
Settling into myself in my forties,
reveling in my own skin
and in the glorious moment,
savoring time as it darts and slows.
Then the changing everything of my fifties.
I search the mirror for the familiar.
Behold the new has come
as fifty bestows its own halo, radiant
a glimpse of the Divine within
His glory peeking out like a bit of handmade lace
adorning a cloche.