I Can Jump Puddles

     It's early winter and rain has fallen during the night, forming puddles on the path at the edge of the park. No-one pays them any attention on a quiet Sunday morning, except me. They walk their dogs and bid me "good morning", and I'm in my seventieth year. Seventy! I strongly rebelled when I was almost fifty and within a matter of years, it's now seventy. Frightening or contemplative? Foreboding or exciting? Forbidding or engaging?
      In the twilight of your years there is a temptation or tendency to begin wallowing in old age, grumbling about the body falling apart, aches and pains trying to deflect from a normal lifestyle - whatever that is.
     When puddles confront me, they have much to offer. Looking into their midst you can see forever, watch birds flitting in the trees, trees that delve deeply into the reflections - waving this way and that in a breeze blowing that sometimes shimmers the surface of the puddle. Pink and grey-tipped early morning clouds, scud wistfully across a blue sky that appears as infinity in the puddles. The last colours of autumn reflect their hues of fading yellows and reds. Leaves flutter silently down to lie gently on their surface, momentarily disturbing the tranquility.
     After the rain, worms have slithered from vivid, wet green grass, onto pavements, beaching themselves to an unpleasant fait - for they never return and lie alone until they dry up and die. It saddens me, but removing the masses is not possible, nor practical, so they will remain there and isolated.
     Late mushrooms push up through the damp and rich-smelling earthiness, revealing their creamy tops tinged with the light brown, that for years I've eaten. They must be edible - I'm still here!
     I often contemplate over the future, philosophize what it will behold, think about my end and wishing it to be quick. But not for now. There is a life to live, a future to share, love to give, places to visit, photographs to take, and maybe more writing to achieve. That's been a recent interest - for what it's worth, it may well continue - God willing.
     One important thing to be achieved before whatever end is in store, for I care not about that for now - I am alive, free and happy and I can jump puddles.