Dec. 20, 2021
poor georgie’s almanack
For a few people the last two years have been great. But, for most of us of a certain age, it has been distasteful. Sickness, deaths of friends and family, an air fetid with Covid, along with an ear filled with warnings and futile attempt at happiness for another birthday (survival, if that is a goal), another dubious holiday, another new car, or baby, or whatever.
The last few months have been particularly difficult for many of us. Too many who were close, now are permanently gone.
BUT.
Along comes good old reliable Grandpa Earl. He is way more reliable than Nathan Detroit, and more thoughtful than Maimonides, Aquinas and Aristotle.
I regretted. He rejoiced.
Beautifully.
See below.
TREE OF SOULS
I often feel like a tree of souls,
Whose leaves have life and feeling.
Now at the end of four seasons,
My leaves have slowly been peeling.
Multicolored souls keep falling off,
I’m dizzy with loss, mind is reeling.
And I have suddenly realized that
Heavens have not been their ceiling.
Leaves of souls have eer fallen away,
Bare branches not very appealing,
My roots are holding the memories,
Few leaves are yet a good feeling.
Where do I go from here old tree,
So many lost leaves revealing,
The timber of life is never forever,
Enjoy what’s left of good feeling.
e.
poor georgie's almanack 