In the End

“In the end, just three things matter:

How well we have lived

How well we have loved

How well we have learned to let go”

                                                                 Jack Kornfield

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in the heat of an August afternoon

earth smells arise

pungent and dusty

a hay field baked

by the sun

suddenly, Proustian

I am young and strong again

Boldy riding an aged International M

engine roaring

dust roiling from a buck rake

haying

in the fields of my youth

my life ahead

and just as suddenly I am back

now

and life stretches far

behind

so many years

so many miles

so many places, people,

accomplishments

so many dreams fulfilled

and dreams unattained

what does it matter?

I suspect jobs, titles, possessions,

even books and blogs

will mean little

that what will count in the end

when the trail ends

will be moments of compassion given

love shared

what will count will be the moments

when I laid my anger and grudges down

at the edge of the road

and walked on

burden free

so the steps continue

to whatever is next

as the smell of hay rises into the August air

left foot

right foot

left foot

breathe