As I age another year,
Tambourine’s discs within the spine
Creak and shiver to the bone.
Words on tongue begin to stutter,
Splitting as a wishbone cracks,
Mind foggy in polished morning air.
Aging shallow lungs mean no marathon
As I blow too many candles out
Upon red velvet cake made by
Friends who forgot velvet lines
Casket at the wake, not that ears are
Hearing so acutely to hear whooshing of
Approaching angel’s feathers
Coming at the setting of my sun.
The Holy Ghost still daily grants
Healing touch as words still come;
Idle mind still taps the devil’s dance;
Muscles still contract; eyes still see
Gliding hawk as I write this poem.
And if these same eyes still blink,
Watch this hawk soar to spring sowing—
Hallelujah, I will have survived
Winter’s death to mending spring,
Breathe again summer’s honey air,
Limber up my love for yet
Another passioned kiss for life.