Four (Short) Po'ems

 

Our compound's ponds, while
man-made, are nonetheless
adequate rest stops for the
migrating geese.

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Norm of 'personal' freedom is
gone. Imprisoned by my own
broken heart. No palpable
future for an old man.

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"You must be here for a purpose"
they say when hearing about my
uncanny ability to 'survive' so much
cardiac debacle. But
 I'd rather be a porpoise.

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Again, "No palpable future" for
this elder dada. Good joke from
the blessed cosmos. What can ye do,
old man?. Just Be,
'til death waves it's  'magic wand'.

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