A Year Goes Past

A year goes past and the tree grows another ring,

and as a year goes past there are other songs to sing.

And as the sun in May chases away the cold,

another year has past, another story must be told...

And if the poem outlives the poet then one could say

That tomorrow's song springs from life that's lived today...

--from "The Needfire: a Celtic Celebration

My love, your life's a poem

shifting rhythm, shifty rhyme

and it's only getting started, love:

you show it all the time.

41's a prime. It is a number of distinction,

Halfway along the scale that leads from birth unto extinction.

(At least as it is measured now...it lengthens every year)

which means we've got a long road yet to share, so never fear.

What a time of reinvention you've been through the last twelvemonth, my love!

You've come out of it much stronger; you have risen far above

the place you were a year ago. And I'm still here to say

I thought I loved you then: I love you even more today.

I'll be here tomorrow, true:

Still rhyming words and loving you.

And then when you turn forty two

That will be my whispered cue

To say that each year's passing makes me only love you more

(And every day, I'll tell you so...but I've said that before.)

It's hard not to repeat myself, but words alone won't show

The love I have for you, my dear. I only hope you know.

Happy birthday, Eva.

Your loving husband