now I’m old I take my waking slow
and no longer leap from my sleepy bed
but lie awhile listening to others on the go
my slumbering dog hardly lifts his head
as the grumbling lift goes up and down
and I dive deeper into my faux fur spread
but nevertheless I still hear the sound
of metal skips dragged to and fro
and bottles as they hit the ground
around me fresher life begins to flow
as the wind rises in the banyan trees
and soon a cacophony of crows
are scheduling their day’s activities
and bold corellas shout their pleasure
in swooping bough to bough with ease
I think about a rising but at my leisure
for now, now is a time of life I treasure.
