I’m 66

What do I need,
another gift, another
card, another
victory, another day?

I’m 66, December is
a crumble of bad
weather, snow, wind,
short light.  Life has
its grievances and
successes, those
moonless thoughts.

What do I need?
Perhaps another
thought, another way
through the endless
detritus of events
swinging with the
hour hand.  Perhaps
a new way of
passing a moment,
of leaving a trail
which will not
disappear — words
which freeze in
someone’s memory.

Stepping stones
across the expanse of
waiting, which is an
ocean, which is so
treacherous, which
is crackling and
devolving time.