He’s acutely aware that it’s May,
almost the middle of the year, and
he thinks more and more often
about phrases like “Time flies.”
He finally grasps, now that he’s
well past mid-life, the wicked math
that makes summers come and go;
waits around for what seems
like an eternity for the birthday cake,
the carousel’s turn, the inevitable
season’s change.
………………………………..It’s May again and
it’s Wednesday, the middle of the week.
He begins to think he’ll probably
muddle through somehow; somehow
find his second wind, find a way to
make it home reasonably unscathed
and ready to face the inescapable
summer’s heat, the cold and
inevitable, unavoidable fall.


One thought on “Mids

  1. yep. we’re still having reasonably brisk all day fires and will right into June. It’s the middle of everything, except age. we’ve passed the midpoint, long ago, and the wheel spins a bit faster, now. A LOT faster. I’m beginning to be surprised by every week, and ‘where did Wednesday” go? OMG it’s Saturday again??

    With the next spin, I’ll be hunting for months, instead. Oh, wait. I do that now. Never mind.

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