I am a middle-aged grasshopper
fiddling my way to Winter
I can feel it coming
smell it in the air now
my days are getting shorter
and soon I will know my first Winter
and my last
and I see the ants all around me
going about the business of their days
while I fiddle away in mindless joy
I am free from all their cares and concerns
I share none of their worries or woes
and every moment of my life is filled
with more bliss than they will ever know
but the price to be paid is Winter
when the long night comes
they will have time for reflections
they will enjoy a sacrifice-earned peace
and plenty
that I will never know
they will possess a special wisdom
born only of accomplishment
that I am doomed to covet
but never share
the precious sounds I drew from my strings
that spread so much joy to so many for so long
lost now in the howling winds of the storm
and lost soon after even to memory
but that I enjoyed it all every second
to the fullest
every moment but the last
there is no sign to mark my passing through or by
no trace left of me where I danced my life away
but perhaps the impression of an almost imperceptible
****
in the new-fallen snow that covers me where I lay
next to the towering mountain hill of the ants
teeming with the frenzy of the living
who will know a second Spring