Sitting

Sitting very quietly at home
with reams of paper, with
insurance policies and
retirement requirements,
examining and judging
all the cheery pictures
of older folks looking happy
and serene with their choices.

I am also sitting
very quietly at home
in pain but not in pain, sad but
not sad, confused beyond it all
with a jumble of thought
in my surfeit of damaged brain.

All the time
the bushes out front
sit not as quietly
brushing against the windows
while a mockingbird across the road
tells her story over and over
like a mystery I need
to solve on this stunning day.

My eyes close, stroke-shuttered
and weary as the country,
demanding more from this land
than I have borne.

I am finally old and
realize
there’s something
in the voice of a bird
that I must listen to
from my own silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T