An old man remembers what he has been
yet the details are unimportant. Then
the outline disappears, and the meaning.
Good, I can die or go to work, be wise
or a jerk. Rich or poor, the wind and rain
wear us away and it's o.k.
Ask what matters, that
question. Feeling the seasons, wearing a hat,
loving your woman, a good shit.
Children born. Two cells meet, multiply,
spiral into fetus. The mother is amazed:
an intelligence apart from herself.
The violent rainstorm kept me awake
although the lightning was still far away.
I lay in my bed and listened naked.
Copyright 2001 & 2007 by Robert Ronnow.