"Nothing gold can stay," the poet says. It sounds depressing, but I don't believe that was his intention. Rather, this is a poetic way of stating a fact of life: it's all about seasons and change.
This poem has come to life for me in recent days, as harvest begins on the prairies. Fields covered with golden canola blossoms just weeks ago now stand in tones of burnt blonde, or lie swathed and waiting for pickup.
Beaches which were well-frequented and highly populated all summer, now looking more solitary in the evenings.
As if on cue, my mind and body recognize a new season and begin to change. Muscles, tense from a season of sitting at a desk, begin to relax with time in the lake/pool, bicycle rides and yoga ball stretches.
I have time to devote to memories and goals. Some of this is healing, while some of it just leaves the heart feeling raw. Similar to the harvested crop, I'm mostly ready to put the good parts to use and prep for a new season and a different product.
It's not awful, this fading of gold. I love the cooler mornings, the comfort of owning my skin, and the view in the rear-view mirror. The hiĺls and valleys made me stronger, the lonely stretches forced me to know myself better, and the seasons of color marked me with laugh lines and happy tears. The horizon is full of unknowns, but I'm thankful for that, too. I would spend too much energy dreading the hard days.
Golden canola blossoms turn into food products. Golden tansy flowers become a salve that soothes my aching feet. Gold coins turn into beverages shared with friends. Golden sunbeams turn into moonlight, cuddles and dreams.
Nothing gold can stay,
But when it fades away:
Oh the joy change brings
To those who choose to sing!
Beaches which were well-frequented and highly populated all summer, now looking more solitary in the evenings.
I have time to devote to memories and goals. Some of this is healing, while some of it just leaves the heart feeling raw. Similar to the harvested crop, I'm mostly ready to put the good parts to use and prep for a new season and a different product.
It's not awful, this fading of gold. I love the cooler mornings, the comfort of owning my skin, and the view in the rear-view mirror. The hiĺls and valleys made me stronger, the lonely stretches forced me to know myself better, and the seasons of color marked me with laugh lines and happy tears. The horizon is full of unknowns, but I'm thankful for that, too. I would spend too much energy dreading the hard days.
Golden canola blossoms turn into food products. Golden tansy flowers become a salve that soothes my aching feet. Gold coins turn into beverages shared with friends. Golden sunbeams turn into moonlight, cuddles and dreams.
Nothing gold can stay,
But when it fades away:
Oh the joy change brings
To those who choose to sing!
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