Gaining Some Perspective

At last our eyes fail to deceive us!

The old ones whisper prayers

And the children look on in wonder.

A teacher comes out of retirement

So his student may release him.

It is often that we remember

What it was like to be born

At the end of our days.

As the farmer looks on the land

It tells him to lie down and rest.

A procession of mourners follows

With their blinkers on,

Delivering one to the great Mother

As they were once delivered from.

Keeping eyes down in grief.

Turkeys distant in the field

Move towards some remembered sanctum.

We happily watch as they pass along

Leaving barren broken corn stalks.

A place once taken now unoccupied.