Wednesday, January 30, 2013

At My Age

At my age I think a lot.
Much dreaming in the dark night
When only the barn owl is awake
And children fast asleep
With all their dreams of yesterday,
I ponder about tomorrow's plight.
Not for fear of the deep
Or the ebb and flow of a new daybreak
Touching upon the mountain lake,
But for all the things I've wrought.

Yet for all the wisdom I've been taught
A raging recess gives me fright
A fissure from a shaking quake
Arouses me while fast asleep
Gives me pause to face the day,
Instills doubt of what I seem.
At my age I need to pray
And think of history in my wake,
Remember Adam and the snake
Who never got what he thought.