Turning 37

Oh, at 5 I could think about Robots
And do my ABCs, at 10 I could
Kill an Ant, and do my algebra, please.
At 16 I could fall in love, and at
20 I gained my maturity's fat.
At 25 I became proficient
At 30 I became a Journeyman.
37, though, my mind is quiet
Almost immediately afterward.
Composed, in a way that is different.
It is a different mind already.
More grateful for the fresh tomato sauce;
My blood pressure is getting higher, too.
I have more peace than I used to. Like the
Flowers turn on their precious dates, so my
Mind does the same. Its seasons flower ripe;
And they are at their most beautiful peak
About to turn to an unripe berry.
And then a sweet fruit, ready to eat. Pluck
It when you do, the mind I do not know;
Will it stop soon? Or will it always grow?