a winning hand

   
   
   
saw an old  
man  
   
cane    
   
crooked    
body  
   
watched him  
walk slowly    
   
deliberately    
   
like a child trying    
to write their first    
alphabet    
   
he gave no interest    
to the feathered
blue sky
above  
   
or to the weight of  
the earth
below  
   
his slow grace revealed    
he was no longer held
back by the gravity
of his  
past    
.  
and he feared not a  
future already
known to
him  
   
as I watched him move  
towards that brave sunset  
resting against the  
shadowed hills of  
existence and    
everything    
after  
   
and just for the .  
briefest seconds  
of eternity  
   
I thought I saw God
laying down the
cards and    
playing his    
best hand    
ever  
.  
   
.  
   
.