On the Go

You can’t bury him yet The wise old owl well fed Eyes keen, a healthy spleen A wrinkled face shows a has-been But not so fast Old hickory not passed But vigilant and wise Wisdom his greatest prize He saunters slowly like a snail His stories, jokes are all old mail His humor, full of jest Tall tales believed are just the best He loves his kids And grandkids in the midst Penuriously slaved Years of elements braved He’s yearned it, earned it While life has taught him quite a bit So when you pass him say “hello” Not finished yet, his life is on the go