Sage

As we grow with time,
Like a flower on a vine,
We weather the storms,
As our shape forms,
We stretch in the light,
Sleep in the night,
Spread seeds to multiply,
Sweet honey bee fly,
Our wisdom is made of scars,
Our years no longer at large,
Grace, elegance and beauty,
In smile of scrutiny,
The age of the sage is not told in years,
Or in the counting of our fears,
It is shown in love everlasting,
In the fine art of compassion,
From the hungry belly fed,
To good night and off you’re led,
There is now wonder and no pretense,
Of the ones who make a difference……
Fennigan T 1.31.11