Posts Tagged ‘retirement’
renewal
Here we are in chill January. Days of snow and freezing rain, bitter cold and flooding and loss. Days when we don’t get enough sun to fill our requirement for Vitamin D. Days when summer seems so far away.
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As a retired person, my days are neither hectic nor sorrowful. My hours are filled with writing, painting, drawing, time on social media and an occasional meeting. I can go outside any time I want to get my dose of sunshine (if available). My stresses are few.
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Once life was not so easy. I worked long days and often came home tired and in a bad mood. But my husband and son made my days wonderful. I found this poem in my files, a testament to the way our families can inject hope into a slogging day! I wrote the poem in 2010, a couple of years before I retired.
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Renewal is possible
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I am entirely new today
some aspect of morning
has cast just-born skin
on me
the song sung by the kettle
the taste of the tea
the forecast of snow
the way you said goodbye
more like the promise of hello
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most days lately
have tears at all the edges
too much to do
too little time
late nights
mugs of coffee, half-gulped
clocks and messages despised
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through the day
I have waited for
old disappointments
to discover my face
but my noon coffee
has a hint of chocolate
and all my emails
are smile-embedded
and one of them from you
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my husband getting pussy willows for me …
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
settling into unfamiliar
After three decades of work, I am retiring within the year. Another milestone. A new ‘way’ to settle into.
I remember when I made the transition into full-time employment. It was a huge change for me.
Previously, I had been a student, living at home. Suddenly, I was away from familiar places, in a new province, on my own.
Fortunately, I had solid back-up… my Mom and Dad were supportive and helped me whenever they could. I loved my apartment, my new friends, my responsibilities. Everything was new. I learned as I went, meeting each new experience as if it was a page being turned in a book.
This transition, my retirement, will be so different. I should be ahead of the change. I am settled. I know my home. I have my husband to steady me and my son to give me advice! I have a plan.
But the transition is still scary. For three decades, my work has structured my life, providing deadlines and places to be, people to see. I’ll have to establish a new daily routine. I’ll have to set goals and celebrate milestones. I’ll have to work a little harder to maintain my social contacts.
It will be like my first walks in the grey woods. In those days, I didn’t know the paths very well and worried about getting lost (even though I could hear the cars on the main road!). Sounds were strange, even frightening. I worried about wild animals.
But gradually I learned the ways of the grey woods. Every time I walked the paths, they became more familiar, and also more worn and easier to follow. I learned the sounds to expect and the animals and birds I would encounter. I learned the pitfalls. I learned to expect a gem on every walk… a fairy ring of mushrooms, a Pileated Woodpecker hammering at a tree trunk, a chorus of frogs from the ephemeral pools…
walk in the grey forest
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I walk on unknown land
land I have not seen
but dreamed, the wary dream of intruder
where silence is fragile
snapped in two
by leaf fall
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I step carefully
my disturbance less
than the exhalation of wind
or the mutter of moths
between moribund trees
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this is ancient land
mossy logs, weary paths
where others may have walked
slanted cathedral light
lichened stones
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the unknown watches me
crouched in a hollow
flattened to the bole of the oak
betrayed by a ripple on the vernal pool
by the rattle of beech leaf or birch bark paper
it will surely shake free of its leaf garment
rise from the forest floor
to chastise me
desecrator of place
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even a careful step
is hard on hollow land
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it will take time
to learn to walk here
to discover game trails in the half-light
to understand words unspoken
to know the dying trees
not as omen
but as part
of the forest
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© Jane Tims 1998
nichepoetryandprose 