They’ve come and gone again, these endless Ides*
That ebb and flow relentlessly as tides!
Thank God they’ve lapped again upon my shore,
Each crash of waves unlike the ones before.
The rushing, sloshing foam sounds all the same,
But sliding back, its pearls upon the sand
Meander into myriad patterns, and
Erased again, new shapes their spaces claim.
Once digging gardens with strong back and arms,
Now healing patiently from cancer’s harms;
Once swinging children round with whooping glee,
Now grateful here to sing with them, and be;
Each day, I’m thankful God my soul restores–
New patterns brings upon my hopeful shores!
*Ides: ancient Roman word for the 15th day of the month.