sometimes i’ve a mind
to lay down my guns and quit.
the run has grown old.
it is no more exhilarating.
young bucks challenge all sides of
turf never owned, though tenaciously held
and leased for a pound of heart and soul,
how long anyway?
three score and, if by strength, ten.
Rivers run to renew the sea.
the sea yields to the heavens.
the heavens rain down upon the earth
where the streams and creeks give birth.
Through the fields life flowed today
a trickle, a rivulet, a brook.
the brute awoke.
new strength, new hope
arose and shook his slumber.
he pawed the earth and sniffed the wind
then stepped up once again.