Older

There are ways these days

in which I feel older,

the tones of my chords

now including sixes, sevens, nines

There is a darkness on the undersides

where previously unknown fears

have flared and charred,

thereby disarmed,

but taste of fire remains

There is a softness now

to my approach, my certainty

is firmer, but its segments shorter —

I look more humbly for direction,

I take stock sooner

to adjust my course

The memory of dipping into tears

is closer to my eyes

and what I care about

is closer to the surface

but more than ever

runs clear and deep.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 25, 2017