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).
