old men

in appreciation of those who have lived here longer than most

Thank you, Daniele Levis Pelusi for this photo

I like to see jolly old men
with their glasses on their foreheads
their eyes turned intently downward or horizonward
gazing and thinking
about what is and what was

they laugh on the inside
perhaps they cry too
at the lost chances and unknown endings
but jolly they are still

they speak freely and with love
they know no price of friendship
their wrinkles run deep
into the streams of their souls
old and loving
happy and content

they speak with ease
their mastery speaks louder
their restraint natural
they know something we don’t
and they tell it to us in their actions

when they gather it’s a party
hearty and full
they spare no quip
swear to no god
laugh from the bottom of their bellies
here beer and whisky mingles

the price of their years carved within their
skin
eyes
nose
the brisk of their walk
the silence of their listening
the slow of their seating
the care they give to telling their origin stories

happy under the shade of a tree they planted
with a grandchild to talk to
a bridge to what they knew and what is
something they struggle to grapple with
but try all the same
leaving us with trails of thoughts to follow
down to our roots