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Scouting the Night

Silly the sadness over
less than perfect noses,
shapes that were a bit
too plump in some places,
and far too lean in preferred
others – now much older,
youth in itself seems perfection
enough – 
            Young cares, those
mountains we now see as
mole-hills -- realizing far greater
the little things: a volunteer
coming to the door with
a hot meal, a call in the 
evening, a friendly voice
just checking, good as
a tuck-in, for those who have
no one – 
             Not all angels
have wings...and many
seniors fearing feathers
anyway, their pointing 
through pillows, too much
like the tips of pitch-forks
scouting the night:)

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Geoffrey Brewer

Date: 9/26/2021 7:29:00 PM

As you wisely point out, a blessing of later life is the recognition of true value. Your last stanza contains extraordinary metaphor, simile and a title that excite the mind. Well done! Joe.

Joe Dimino
Date: 9/27/2021 7:53:00 AM

Thank you so much, Geoffrey; your analysis and understanting of the work, have made my day! Blessings my friend!

L Milton Hankins

Date: 9/25/2021 11:46:00 AM

Loved your poem, Joe, especially "Not all angels have wings...." Definitely! Always beware of those who bear "tips of pitch-forks," my friend.

Joe Dimino
Date: 9/25/2021 11:56:00 AM

Hi Milt; thank you. Your comment means a lot to me...yes, have met both kinds. Quite a life this has been. Can't say that I have seen it all, but...a heaven a lot...and a hell of a lot. Blessings!