They stretch and yawn,
All easy grace, unthinking pride
Fix me with their predatory gaze
And reaching out a paw
Swat me aside
It takes all I have
To make them stretch an extra inch
To make the touch
Or extend the conversation
To a second phrase
Flush with strength and health
They take for granted
Everything I gain by painful effort
Incremental work
Or sheer good fortune
Most of all it stings
That age and wisdom
Confer no advantage
Old in body I am yet an infant in
This sport of kings
Still, a hopeless optimist,
I bait the big cats
Teasing them to strike
Thinking if I marshal every scrap of
My small skill
It may, someday, suffice
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
FWIW those young lions get all stressed out and make mistakes. Age confers wisdom and a cool head :)
ReplyDeleteI am an old lion tonight, no wiles, watching the young lions get stronger and stronger and having no idea why I can't learn how to do this. Great poem! I'm there with you, as always. : )
ReplyDelete