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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

A poet writes, I answer

by Philip Schultz
My bones aren't what they used to be; my eyes ache,
as if I've been reading an ancient text by candlelight.
My back and knees creak. I'm happy if the car starts
and I can walk the dogs along the ocean which looks
a little less robust. It replenishes itself with stretching
and long cleansing breaths. The sun is another story.
It's beginning to show its age. Perhaps we've enjoyed
enough springs and everything is getting a little redundant.

My bones are better than they once were,
fragile as a child, broken as a young adult,
strengthened now by age, by effort.
My eyes see more, and better too, and when
they’re tired, they rest, not needing to
gather every word, sometimes happy to simply
watch a young couple in love stroll by.
My back and knees know how to bend, and how
to lift, to stay away from trouble in its many forms,
because my ears no longer hear the proud demands
of youth. The sky is bluer than it’s ever been
and I have yet to see a lake that did not calm me.
I am warmed by the sun of the West, and can’t
wait to see what each new daily appearance brings

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