Living the Aging Life

It’s dark.

It’s wet.

It’s gloom.

It’s gray.

It’s just a typical Northwest day.

The candle’s burning for your friend.

It also burns for you.

It burns to give you courage.

It burns to see you through.

Now squirrels have joined the bunnies

eating up my Berry Bed.

My luck’s not good in shooing them

to other yards instead.

My garden gate is open wide.

It beckons you to step inside

and have a pleasant chat with me.

We’ll share a fresh, hot cup of tea.

The killing is rampant.

No end to the strife.

No end to the bloodshed.

Just end to one’s life.

Six hundred thousand Americans dead.

The mind can hardly absorb it.

A year and a half of dread and fear –

Yet, some folks still try to ignore it.

Every day when I get up

I brew my coffee

in my Keurig cup.

The coffee is hot and tasty and good

and it starts my day

just the way it should.

I suppose it could happen to anyone.

You meet a man.

He has a gun.

He shoots you down.

The baby, too.

Not the slightest chance

for either of you.

I found a silver candlestick

to hold my golden light.

The candle rises gracefully

and shimmers clear and bright.