‘Let me grow lovely, growing old–
so many fine things do.
Laces, and ivory, and gold,
And silks need not be new,
And there is healing in old trees,
Old streets a glamour hold;
Why may not I, as well as these,
Grow lovely, growing old?’
–Karle Wilson Baker
Other fine things that ‘grow lovely, growing old’: paintings, with their cracked and faded patina, wrinkled hands with age spots, the scent of boxwoods along a worn stone walkway, creaky wooden stairs.
Age well today, dear reader. It’s a gift to be here.
*Baker (1878-1960), born in Arkansas, was educated at The University of Chicago, lived most of her life in Texas, where she wrote and taught for decades, receiving accolades as a poet and publishing multiple books with Yale University Press.
(That’s a sweet-gum seed pod in the pixabay photo. A favorite tree of Betty’s, my mother-in-law. Thank you, Betty, for giving my husband a turn on this earth.)