Scouting the Night
Silly the sadness over
less than perfect noses,
shapes that were a bit
too plump in some places,
and far too lean in preferred
others – now much older,
youth in itself seems perfection
enough –
Young cares, those
mountains we now see as
mole-hills -- realizing far greater
the little things: a volunteer
coming to the door with
a hot meal, a call in the
evening, a friendly voice
just checking, good as
a tuck-in, for those who have
no one –
Not all angels
have wings...and many
seniors fearing feathers
anyway, their pointing
through pillows, too much
like the tips of pitch-forks
scouting the night:)
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