I look at
Yoda
My tortoise
And consider
That he (or she)
Will likely be here in 50 years time,
Still ponderously
migrating
Across the garden
Or
Whichever habitat he (she) find themselves.
And I,
In all probability
Deceased
Or
Decrepit
Or
Worn to dust.
Today,
I thought of time-travel.
Call me Calliope,
I am 50
With eyes
And
Body
That reflect the years.
Translate me;
Transpose me
30
years before.
Same time
Same place
My voice
Softer
My skin
More elastic
My (emotional) heart
Less resilient.
The past and the present are one –
Just, as Kurt says in his book.
I struggle to hold-on to the moment,
Not slip into
Fourth-dimension
Contemplation
Of possibility.
Yoda
He walks,
He slowly
Advances on the lettuce
Into the sun
To warm his shell.
And, me, what is it that I do?
Dr Rod’s Odd Blog (almondemotion) 
Rodney are you grieving over Goldengrove unleaving (thanks G M Hopkins).
Happy birthday (?)🎂 Calliope , muse of poetry and steam -whistle musician, multi-talented in the arts and sciences, leavening lives. Decide what you want to do and do it ( if only!). Travel through the spheres and land back on earth . Cheers (Guinness is good for you?)!
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Thanks Freda I havent heard of Goldengrove – Google doesnt help me; is this a poem? Fortunately not grieving over anything. Guinness picture took me to a time when we visited Dublin many years ago!
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The poem is Spring and Fall ( to the child Margaret) by Gerard Manley Hopkins. The last line is thought-provoking. So I am pleased to know you are not grieving anything Rod. The Guinness picture nicely ties the theme together and the tortoise looks happy! Here’s to the next 50 years!
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