Thursday, July 13, 2017


                    Having made it to the age of nearly eighty
                    With my faculties and wits mostly intact
                    May indicate that I’ve been blessed innately
                    Or fortune has provided what I’ve lacked.
                    Now what to do to best deserve this grace
                     It is my sacred mission to endeavor
                     And with my wit and will firmly embrace
                     A calling that exhorts me to be  clever.
                     And so it is I sit here doing this,
                     Gazing at my lap pad, chewing on
                     My pen cap, hoping that the Muse will kiss
                     My brow and just the right ideas dawn.
                          If you think that’s not happened here and now,
                          Then look for me tomorrow, behind my plow.