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Dear Friday, on a Saturday, I offer you this poem....

Season to Season by Clive James

I have been fooled before, and just because This summer seems so long, it might not be My last. Winter could come again, and pause The sky like a taped tactical descent Of pocket paratroopers. Things to see Could happen yet, and life prove not quite spent But still abundant, still the main event.

The trick, I’m learning, is to stay in doubt, Season to season, of what time might bring, And patiently await how things turn out. Eventually time tells you everything. If it takes time to do so, no surprise In that. You fold your arms, you scan the skies, And tell yourself that life has made you wise,

If only by the way it ebbs away. But still it takes an age, and after all, Though nearly gone, life didn’t end today, And you might be here when the first leaves fall Or even when the snow begins again, If life that cast you, when this all began, As a small boy, still needs a dying man.


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