10.27.2014

sitting by evening fire

winds of autumn starting

to chill the night air

outside

my eyes see

a newer self in the

hall mirror

older, more lines,

weariness askance,

matching the soreness

of muscles that now

hurt every day and

yet ache nicely

in comparison

things could be worse

they say, things could

stop in the blink of an

eye that never opens

again.

and then what. we do

not know except through

hope. and that inner

whatever

that connects

dancing, stepping,

breathing out, drawing in,

touching always

the beloved.

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