On Turning 40 and Other Revelations  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌
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It Almost Rained Today

On Turning 40 and Other Revelations

Jeff Goins
Apr 1
 
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Howdy. March, apparently, flew by. With spring break, an international trip on my end, lots of work in the works, and just life in general, it’s been a month. At any rate, yesterday was my birthday, I turned forty, and wrote a poem to commemorate it and this current season of life. More to come soon, but here’s something to read in the meantime. Feel free to shoot a reply or comment to let me know how this strikes you.


It Almost Rained Today

It almost rained today

On the day of my birth

forty years ago

Today.

I stepped outside and sat on the porch

To celebrate

Smelling the musty scent of future things already passed;

I hurried to cover the grill in the backyard

And dragged our fire pit into the garage

Where it doesn’t belong,

Waiting for the worst to come.

I sat

Inhaling three times and

Watching clouds turn grey;

Held my breath and opened my eyes

Blowing out candles from yesteryear

Forgetting news headlines and the threat of whatever might be lurking

just beyond the cul-de-sac.

I prepared for soft drops on sticky pavement

Finding myself inexplicably

Smiling;

The wind kissed my face in between blinks of bliss

Collapsing that imaginary wall separating me from everything

And I noticed a certain sunniness begin to emerge:

Easter.

I felt the stone of my self move aside

Letting sunlight pour in like orange juice

And the clouds receded—

Something reminiscent of Revelation

—And with one angelic leaf descended from above

The whole earth shuddered.

Once more, I was a baby boy:

Pieces of my mother still attached to the crown of my head,

looking around with infant eyes—

Taking in a new creation.

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548 Market Street PMB 72296, San Francisco, CA 94104
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