Weather-worn and grayed by sun,
Splintered by the races run,
Distanced from youth’s lively fun,
Singing new refrain;
Wearing grey with greater grace,
Wisdom etched on aging face,
Finding strength in finding place,
Going with the grain.
Sometimes, I still feel so small,
Looking up at distant height;
Sometimes, forward’s just a crawl,
When soul desires freedom’s flight.
But just as trees need lifetime’s span,
So my progress time requires;
Just as pine from seed began,
So my heart grows what’s desired.
Lord, remind your daughter small
That You delight in stages earned;
Walking comes when first I’ve crawled,
And flying after running’s turn.