There is nothing to fear, except
Life,
Which, truly, can turn on a dime
But, mostly, speeds along linearly
Faster than you think and then
Here you are
Almost 60
You’re doing fine
You’re in a good place
Confidence growing as you
Explore this wilderness of
Time,
Which can run out, yes,
But also creep along in a
Blur of rootlessness
In the luxury of leisure
You try to define
Like a young man starting out
But smarter this time
A new, less harried,
Self,
To rise and
Replace industry
After the campaigns ended
The soldier sits on his porch stoop
Watching the women hang laundry
Chickens peck and cluck
Pigs grunt in their muck and
Children run here and there, madly,
As they do
— David M Hancock
