The View From Up Here
From up here, it was like living on the world’s edge with a magnificent view of life. Pure life- the air had a clean freshness, the wind a keenness and people brimmed with happiness. I witnessed many meander through the park- hurrying in the cold of winter, heads up to fresh rain in spring, faces turned to the sun in summer. At the beginning of the next season some were pessimistic, believing autumn, other than having a cascade of amazing colours, was a contradiction. It meant plenty, ripening, harvest and a copiousness, but also a symbol of decay, decline, old age and death. But then they saw the colours and felt the kiss of a cold wind on their cheek and so appreciated autumn for its true worth.
One would-be poet quoted Jim Bishop, “Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
The quote made me glad, although I do not know why. After all, I was dying.
There they are, the two lovers. Walking and talking. Talking and walking. With no thought for others.
There is that hirsute dog without a care in the world, really symbolising carpe diem. No matter the season, he jumps into the duck pond, takes a leisurely swim before being chased off by the park warden. The warden curses, but they really enjoy the chase.
There is that toddler who is just learning to throw a ball. His greatest fan cheers him on, gives him pointers and joys over his every little accomplishment. That is what fathers are for- to cheer their little ones on.
The season is fast moving on, but there is so much I want to delight in before I am forced to leave.
So much more to enjoy, but it is too late. A wind tugs at me and I fall. A burnished gold leaf twirling through space to join a pile of my brothers, so that the lovers, dogs, children and aged can delight in me one more time by walking through crunchy jewels.