The Joys Of Aging
A poem
Published in
Mar 20, 2024
Watching the slant of late light
etch pathways of shadow
across the rumpled bedspread.
No hurry to shake the crumbs
from breakfast’s rifled newspaper,
its sheets now lantern-lit vellum.
Holding an old anger’s ache
up to the day’s last amber rays
unravelling its knots, setting it free.
Easing into the opera
of cicada choirs, a hymn
to brew over until dusk’s curtain falls.
This watching, waiting,
breathing with what is
the old plush heart’s lasting cadence.
In fog-sieved stillness,
night’s pearled silence
offers the chance to begin, again.
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