Earth Day at Seventy - a Villanelle

The green world spins, and I have turned to seventy,

Where rivers slow but still remember rain.

I plant my hands in soil that once planted me.

Young feet once raced the woods, wild and free,

Now every step recalls what youth could gain.

The green world spins, and I have turned to seventy.

Beneath these bones the old earth hums its plea,

“Return what time has taken, give again.”

I plant my hands in soil that once planted me.

The cherry trees still bloom in fragile symmetry,

Their petals fall like years across the lane.

The green world spins, and I have turned to seventy.

I teach my grandchildren the names of every tree,

The taste of rain, the patience of the grain.

I plant my hands in soil that once planted me.

Though winter whispers in the veins of memory,

Spring keeps its promise, fierce and unafraid.

The green world spins, and I have turned to seventy,

I plant my hands in soil that once planted me.