Every four
years,
near summer’s
end,
the world
focuses
on sports,
on athletics.
For me,
awaiting fall,
there’s more
to enjoy,
like art and
beauty,
nature,
aesthetics.
We can’t all
be runners
and leapers and
such,
especially
us old folks,
it would
just be too much.
Yet, as our own personal
autumn nears,
there’s joy
to be found,
no mere
dollop of pride,
we each have
some genius,
an artist
inside.
We’re each
an Olympian,
merely needing
the temerity,
to claim our
abundance,
our joy and
prosperity.
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