Monday, September 22, 2014
The Winter of Old Age
When the chill comes into the bones
And frost covers Minnesota’s windows.
When the icicles form their glassy shapes
And one sits in by the kitchen stove,
Cuddled under a blanket, or quilt—
Arms folded, checks rosy-cold, one knows
The winter of old age has arrived.
Old age weighs heavily the need for money
As never youth needs it; you realize
Old age has come, and will never go,
—hence, eventful things happen in the
Course of the winter, of one’s old age:
Even shaving with a safety racer, is bold:
Fear of the unknown, the unexpected!
Fiscal fear is reflected aloud… You
Roll your own cigarettes, you remain
On the water-wagon: fragility has set-in!
God has set this interval of time aside
For meditation; realization, reflection. To
Make things right, before the long night!
Written: 9-21-2014/No: 4554
Portrait by the author/poet’s Grandfather 1969 (drawn freehand
From a photography, in 1984).