After The Peak
I used to fret that I’ve passed the peak of my powers.
You know, like the Times talks about a novelist
“writing at the peak of her powers.” But that’s usually
the perspective of someone else, not the novelist.
Plus the peak is sometimes too much, like the autumn
leaves too gold, too red, almost unbelievable.
There are the colors that follow, fading shades less
brilliant but more courageous, more earthish.
“More courageous, more earthish.” That’s where we are here in New England, and it’s beautiful. You can do a whole lot worse than russet, gold, and plum on the landscape.
Yes, to “more earthish” although, at times, it seems to be a fearful fall (from brilliance to something more seasoned).
Stunning! If you are past your peak, John, your peak must have been blindingly brilliant, because your words shimmer now.
Please, Lord…
I just said the same thing on my blog! http://tenthousandplaces.org/2014/11/07/november-would-have-been-enough/ I came over here through Rachel Held Evans, and I’m glad I did. Beautiful poetry.