Autumn of His Days
There is a gardener in the man,
scattering his seeds,
nurturing his spot of earth,
feeding more than a few needs.
There is a cook in him now,
comfort foods his best,
mostly vegan, sometimes not,
depending on the fest.
There is a husband in him too,
way past youthful fears,
he’s never won an argument,
not one in fifty-two years.
There is a Marine somewhere inside,
one who fought beyond our borders,
though he now approaches eighty,
he’s still home, awaiting orders.
There is a man of many words,
a writer, mostly a poet,
he sometimes likes his product,
that is, when he gets to it.
He appreciates most
what has grown within his heart,
his connectedness to Spirit
now plays his biggest part.
Cheered somewhat by the
crisp sunlight of early fall,
he knows, peace, love and friendship
to be the most valuable of all.
In matters of Spirit, he knows
that words get in the way,
that there’s a legacy to loving,
to the Grace of a single day.
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