A wisdom says that as we age
We build our history page on page
So in the end when scope we lack
Our view of life is looking back.

It says that we get selfish too
Quite self-absorbed, though look the fool
As intellect and memory drops
Awareness of the world then stops.

But I’m surprised – self falls away
As major focus of each day
I wake each morning, thank you, God –
A day to plant or turn some sod.

When young I sowed with view of crops
Which harvest days would pay me lots
On which to build a future bright
And stroke my ego’s foresight right.

That’s true, but now the future’s days
Are filled with crops which foresight pays
To someone else – quite unawares –
Of how good fortune’s crop is theirs.

Of gifts, that is my favorite kind –
They see the gift but not behind
To whom their thanks is due for grace
To them as part of human race.

So, like this day, I’ll plant a seed
Prepare some land, remove some weed;
Like when as kids at camping ground
Left it in better shape than found.

So past was fun – our acts inform
With wisdom gained, not thought forlorn.
I build a future, not for me
But for this great humanity.