Monday, December 17, 2012

Feathers

The earth decays
toward solstice
and the dying year
turns.

OK, I am old.

But age may bring
the poet
new perspectives
engendering
new poems.

Maybe better.

Like the new year,
I may rise again,
blazing eyed,
phoenix like,
an aging Argos
lively with
with new tricks.

Let it be so.

    mce

1 comment: