38 Years

- William J. Gibson -

it used to be about addition
now subtraction rules

there was an old pair of shoes to throw away
a ratty pair of slippers wanting to end it all

the cat was lieing on the pile of clean clothes
the sun pouring in the window the lightest honey

birds singing absolutely sincerely in full contact competition
and the waves breaking insistently on the sand and rocks

I had been in swimming and my shoulders were a little tired
and the wind began to chill me down – my legs felt okay

now i stood in the shade of the oak tree
that I planted 38 years ago

making so many generations of squirrels very happy
a screen for the meteor shower of August

the next people who own this place
I hope they choose to cut it down