At the age of two a daisy evoked wonder worth contemplating for a minute or two.
At the age of four a lilting ball in air was a wonder that could be captured in hand.
At the age of six I could contemplate the leisurely passage of clouds overheard while time disappeared.
By the age of twenty I had no time for such nonsense.
By the age of forty I thought a daisy not worth a second’s gaze.
By the age of sixty I thought of clouds as mere weather.
By the age of seventy I realized I was wiser when I was a child.