Note to Self
       

To be old and not to feel it is a gift.
To be supplanted and not to care. So be it.
The birds are not supplanted by the air,
the air, what's left of it, by flood or fire.

The effort of a life, the wasted hour,
the kind word given to a stranger's child
are understood as kin and disappear.
Time to be grass again. Ongoing. Wild.

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Copyright © 2020 David Mason All rights reserved
from Rattle
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission