This week the leaves unfurled on nearly all the trees, a truly magical awakening. I am always reminded of Dylan Thomas's poem at this time of year. Its first lines are among the few that I have memorized:"The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age. "
When I first read it, I was indeed in my green age, and I loved the image of life pushing up into the light. The next lines made no impresson on me, however:
"that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. "
Thomas was 39 when he died, and I, at this point, am much older. The circle of life is beginning to become clear to me, but he must have seen it at a much younger age--a far too young age.
Poets sometimes are the lightning rods for the thunder of understanding. Do the rest of us spend too much time looking for shelter from the storms of life?
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