My Father's Poems: April 24, 2022

Daily Diary, Day 602:

DITTO

Where would we be, if life did not repeat,
if nature, falling rains and time must strain
to ever go and come in measured beat?

The pain of life and healing's balance sheet
and all the joys and ills that lives contain,
where would we be, if life did not repeat?

The storms and calms and tides in quick retreat
all make their violent mark on earth's terrain,
to ever go and come in measured beat.

Full days and hours and seconds rush to meet
the month's and year's and season's plodding gain.
Where would we be, if life did not repeat?

The hurts of loss and balms of health complete,
the reassuring throbs of heart remain
to ever go and come in measured beat.

Watch storm and calm and pain and healing greet
the tide and wind and season's endless chain.
Where would we be, if life did not repeat,
to ever go and come in measured beat?

––Joseph Locke

I grew up in western Pennsylvania, where the changes from summer to fall to winter to spring were very distinct, and when I moved to the southwest 45 years ago, I complained about the lack of seasonal change in San Diego. But that isn't true. And one of the benefits of doing these daily posts (with photos) has been the way I've started taking note of the subtle but gradual signs of season's change and to welcome each in turn.