If we live long enough we all reach the age when, like it or not, we have to slow down. There is a saying four legs (crawling stage), two legs (most of adult life), three legs (two legs and stick when we age). I don't know where that leaves me - I suppose I am two legs and four wheels (Priscilla) at present. But whatever I am I know one thing for certain. I have slowed down.
My teaching life was hectic - rushing from place to place,always in a hurry. My early retirement was a pleasant, leisurely pace but still we went to many places on holiday where we rushed from place to place making sure we saw everything. Now, of course, arthritis, old age and a broken hip later, my pace has been forcibly slowed down and frankly I don't mind all that much.
I remembered this morning that many years ago I wrote a poem about it. At one time I wrote a lot of poetry and put it on my blog but I haven't done so for years as I suddenly realised that my 'poetry' was really not very good. However, I found a book with my poetry in it yesterday so I put here for you today a 'poem' which tells you how I feel about being in the slow lane - like it or not - now:
Take the Slow Train.
Take the slow train, let it wander
through the meadows. Count the buttercups,
Watch the river as it glides under bridges,
over fields. See the sunlight on the water,
dappling patterns through the trees.
And listen - in the stations -
to the birdsong in the silence.
You'll arrive there just the same -
only later. And your head
will be full of nothing more
than the pleasant, country scene.
Or take the fast train, the express,
as it hurtles through the fields,
over bridges and through stations,
empty platforms - 'til it shudders
to a halt. At its final destination
and you step out to a whirl,
to a crowd of busy people
all intent on getting somewhere
in the very shortest time.
I'm a slow train kind of person.
I need time to stand and stare.
If it comes to travelling quickly
I'm not going anywhere.