On Sunday, at age 82,

It had gotten old 

As all things do 

So, on Monday

I turned the page 

And moved into a different age 

Now, tra-la-la, tra-la-lee, 

I’m  setting sail

At 83 

But truth be told:

My mind still slips 

My joints still hurt 

My heart still skips 

Thank God I still also see 

Myself as whole 

In whale and flea

In moss and rock

In weed and tree

In earth and wind and fire, too

Just as I did 

At 82

This seeing that’s been given me 

Sees in what‘s old liberty 

Sees a vast, unbounded sea 

To sail anew 

At 83