I’d like to see some moderation
saturate this entire nation.
I’d like us to be swept away
by waves of “Nice” in all we say.
I’d like attacks of courtesy
to overcome the folks I see.
I’d like that “Me First!” attitude
replaced by Grace.
Cut out the rude.
I’d like a little passion for
the kinds of acts that I adore:
like listening and honesty
and plain respect for you and me.
What is life, if not for living?
What is love, if not for giving?
One place each can make a start:
share a loving, giving heart.
We used to think it was OK
to own another man.
Our progress can be halting,
still, we do the best we can.
We’ll have three days of summer.
Then, I’m sorry to report,
the weather will be changing and
the days start getting short.
My lilac tree gets weaker,
sicker, frailer year by year.
I’m afraid that one day, I’ll look out –
and she’ll just disappear.
Faith and hope still mean a lot.
In fact, they may be all we’ve got.
My telephone’s not mine alone.
My phone’s self-activated.
It does just what it wants to do.
My input’s not awaited.
It calls at random through the night.
It rings and buzzes left and right.
But when I tell it what to do,
it puckers up and sulks a few.
It burps and stalls and wants a PIN
and then it hunkers down again.
The phone does what it wants to do
which might not match with me and you.
Some toddlers learn the phoning skill…
but my phone does its thing at will.
My garden’s growing in the rain.
Each bloom’s an appetizer
that hints at what I’m soon to see
from all that fertilizer.
I love One-legged pickle-ball!
I hop around a lot.
When you can’t run
on two strong legs,
it shows ‘em what you’ve got!
My cats and I live in a house
that’s big enough for three.
We live alone in that big house.
The two old cats.
And me.
Living the Aging Life 