9-17 Son Day

We have a lovely screen-in back porch where temps permitting, I love to read in a “S” chair. As you know or will find out, being 70 kind of registers in the psyche. Time is running out. Here’s the latest:

 

Ancient of Days

From a back porch, I spot a herd of deer,

Does and fawns browsing in afternoon light.

Some stag flashes antlers—points bony spears.

 

Spooked, they jump the rail fence and disappear.

Absently, I scratch a mosquito bite

And spy a crow preen like a buccaneer.

 

It wings and fades in autumn atmosphere.

I ponder What is there beyond my sight?

On the sill, her Snake Plant has spots of blight.

As I pour over my life, my career,

 

Veins bulging on my hands, my speeding years,

I lift my eyes to sapphire skies—so bright—

Secure not to fear, but welcome tonight

And behold constellations’ chandeliers.

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