ninety-four days
with not a drop of rain
in this Spring desert—
thank God we still make love
after forty-three years!
in the morning sun
the ancient saguaro
a-twitter with song—
my little bird, rest a while
by my side in this warm bed
do you think this
gray
in my hair is becoming?
yesterday, I cried
when my sister telephoned
to say her marriage ended!
our first grandchild
will be born in a few days!
how old we are now—
distant is the memory
of his pre-mature birth
listen to the wind—
perhaps the rains come today!
hold my hand awhile—
how tiresome, watching sand
trickle through the hour glass
red sky at sunset—
expecting sailor's delight
I trim my sails
perhaps our passions will meet
in perfect harmony
