Poems

Seventy-Four

 

Not yet fourscore

no field of dreams

or lack of love

work mostly done

except for this

and the compounded joy of

kids so grand

 

Seventy-Fourth Year Assessment

 

Pretty good–not perfect,

not close, but

proud and thankful for

family, their future, even

boastful–

no butcher or baker but

rooted deep,

nurtured by mothering

responsive to each of their

needs,

magic for a lifetime of

support and respect

 

My hip however is another story–

the path to disability happened

so fast–

to me!

Pain, getting lame

can be fixed maybe with

plastic, ceramic, titanium

I don’t want it

I do want it

I want to be fixed

I hope it works

 

I’m trying to stay positive

being a patient was the

last thing I wanted this or

any year

 

Connie says keep it in perspective–

it’s hardware and rehab

pain meds and exercise

not chronic or fatal

 

Long view is clouded when

the short view is clouded

Buck-up lad, keep focused on

family, friends, this work,

good food, music–get to the

seventy-fifth and keep counting.

 

 

What Do I Want To Be?

 

If I could be anything,

what would it be?

An oft asked question,

not often of me.

 

You see I’m a doctor,

and that’s pretty settled,

people get shy,

if they think you’d be nettled,

 

by a pointed question

about your profession

and pray tell if you’ve

ever made a confession

 

about what you do and

if you are happy

or whether boredom and burnout

have made you feel crappie.

 

I know in my case

the answer is clear,

I do love my work

and consider it dear,

 

so the answer is easy

I’m happy to say,

a doctor I’ll be

to my very last day.

 

Old Friends

 

It has been years,

almost a lifetime,

memories fuzzy,

soft, yet still a familiar bright

face makes me slowly shake my head

smile

reconnecting is comfortable,

easy, even after all this time

we could share an egg-cream