I’ve heard it takes some courage to grow old.
That notion seems as weak and frail to me
as letting decades pass with uncontrolled
attention to one’s flexibility.
The quality unmentioned should be told:
this aging teaches me humility.
I keep forgetting – how I used to move
was then, and now with shock my years reprove.
(Ottava Rima)
A week ago, she tested positive,
and instantly went into careful mode.
Of course she wants her family to live
without infection. Leaving her abode,
she camped inside the cottage while she rode
out symptoms. She improved to almost fine.
They kept on testing and nobody showed
until today the dreaded shaded line…
(Huitain)
The only living things I kill are flies
and ants and other bugs I find within
my house, that whine in ears or bite my skin.
And as I tissue-hasten their demise,
I think a slight apology. My sighs
are small – for sure my act was not a sin,
but ended life that happened to begin
a bit too close to where my comfort lies.
And then I think how fortunate I am
to not be born a bug. How likely was
existence any way? How lucky I,
alive but not an oyster, not a clam,
and not a creature bound to flit and buzz.
I’ll count me apex-glad until I die.
Invite imagination to our chats.
The narrative in full is never told
without a filter, when remote-controlled.
We detail irks so readily, and that’s
suggestive that our ills are manifold.
Invite imagination to our chats.
The narrative in full is never told.
Describing friends and lovers isn’t stats.
Analysis that’s gossip-based is cold
and so far off the mark, it can’t be sold.
Invite imagination to our chats.
The narrative in full is never told
without a filter, when remote-controlled.
(Madrigal)
The benefits to growing old include
a discount transit pass and Medicare.
But better than both those, I’m now imbued
with new ability to sense my bounds.
I quickly comprehend my attitude;
I know my limits when it comes to love;
and finally, I’m able to conclude
how well or not I feel, and when to spare
my effort, while recovery’s accrued.
(Magic 9)
I used some muscles differently this week.
I altered posture and I changed my twist.
I heard an ancient set of teaching speak
to me, in tones I didn’t let exist
before, before it disappears in mist
of age, when I may grow to be too old,
when I’m immobilized. Now I insist
on effort personal and self-controlled.
(Huitain)
The residence where I spend time
is hosting Covid for some days,
so I elect to pen this rhyme
instead of finding other ways
to afternoon without malaise,
like doing wash or cleaning home.
I’d rather seek a metered phrase.
I’ll sit right here and write this poem.
(Huitain)
Okay so far, and marveling. It’s clear
we all feel well, and that’s a bit bizarre.
Her test is positive, but we appear
okay so far.
We’re careful but we left the door ajar.
At four events we’ve been exposed this year.
We may not merit well, and yet we are.
This time infection filled our atmosphere.
The virus hit her like a wrecking bar
and all of us have hugged her tight, but we’re
okay so far.
(Roundel)
The group I know who took the greatest care
to keep the virus out, has been beset.
They always wear their masks and don’t forget
to sanitize when they go anywhere.
So far just one of four is testing yes,
and isolating at the same address –
the prudent mother, who has often said
in time we’ll all succumb to viral spread.
I wondered – if a coin displayed tail side
a million times you tossed it, does that say
it’s likely to show heads on its next flip?
If 50/50 odds are true, replied
my logic, every throw’s discrete. It may
be tails again. I might not get this grippe.
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