“How does it feel?” people keep asking me,
As if my turning 60 was a weight--
As if each decade had a density
That made me suffer and not celebrate--
As if it was a wound to have more years
Behind me than I have ahead of me--
As if, just like the closing of frontiers,
The one thing missing is a eulogy.
I have to say, I don’t feel any change:
The ticking of the clock is still a call
To take new chances and expand my range.
The moment’s in the movement, after all,
And Life’s a tune that each new moment sings.
How does it feel? Like wings. It feels like wings.
Copyright 2012 Matthew J Wells