Ode to Latter Days
They are untroubled days;
I bask in their rays.
They are days of unclouded light;
I can see through each night.
I often sit on the porch,
viewing the past with a searchlight.
I spend more time with the sacred,
no longer opening the door at dawn to journey.
I am at peace with the unchanged;
I walk through the meadow with vivid understanding.
Family are the stars of the night sky;
they are the radiant and colourful petals of the summer field.
You come, and my memoir sits on the shelf.
I am no longer a puzzle to myself.
You come, and the days I awaken to are gifts to treasure;
I don’t idly waste my leisure.
September 19, 2026.
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