The Hastening
Gleeful spiral of spring growth,
flattened stalks under summer’s blasts,
dazzle of yellow as Gingkoes toast autumn,
closeness of wide cold winter sky,
each so short, time on fast track.
I can’t keep up, can’t turn the pages
of the calendars and datebooks fast enough!
New sprouts hasten to wither,
seasons tumble against each other, rush,
trample over nature, tumultuous as man-kind.
Destruction seems our destiny.
Speed takes our breath, does not return it.
I am at odds with the world,
whirl-winded toward my mortal end.
New years begin every day, new lives,
hours devour months at a bite,
I am dizzy, the merry-go-round no longer fun,
going round and up and down and forward,
always fast-forward.
Nature itself hurries toward a day,
the day already written in sand, in sky,
when I will leave this heaven and finally face
the unknown. Oh, dear trees and birds, be not so hurried,
pause and let me be with you one more day,
just one more day.
Cleo Griffith
Cleo Griffith lives in California’s Central Valley. Widely published in such journals as Main Street Rag, Straylight and Westward Quarterly, she has been on the editorial board of Song of the San Joaquin since it began in 2003. Her first book, The Yellow Dress, was published in September 2025.
