Winter aged me,
took away muscle tone
with each mound of snow
left unshovelled.
I stared at my flaccid arms and legs.
Surely they belonged to someone else,
my mother perhaps…
when she was ninety.
Then spring arrived
With its noisy insistent presence.
Too much growth –
I’m done with that.

Robin Lubatkin does circle time with the very young and what she calls “songhealing” with the very old.