Read Poems by
Musings on more than a decade of retirement;
no report card scribble: ‘could’ve done better’.
Old put-downs, praise, blame, and shame,
all the same now. Nothing would jolt
the diurnal cadence of living and ageing.
Riding the bike, dip in the sea, few lengths in the pool
bringing wayward blood-sugar back to heel.
No excess, or excuse needed, for a glass or two with friends.
Eye-sight, reflexes, tested and judged
more than adequate for driving around
hoping to return before dark - unless, to pick up
or drop off family and friends at the airport –
not forgetting the local fiesta, musical show, flamenco night,
costing next to nothing.
Life’s purpose affirmed in every trivial act
presages loud hosannas before the curtain falls.