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09/25/09 - (3)
Testament
With the wind gusting off the lake For the first time in the week since I've been here, Its rough thrusts cutting across my bare chest
And my blood coursing through my throbbing arteries, As my aching leg and thigh muscles take the steep grades Of the streets stitching this quiet enclave's existence,
I appreciate my lean body, The athletic shape I've achieved at sixty-eight, How elated I am to experience such exhilarating pain,
In this place that accommodates my need for escape, And sense that were my time-eliding demise to arrive tonight — Or right this second, for that black matter —
I'd die a man at the height of his aging's ecstasy, Satisfied that my bones would know no loneliness, Resting in the sequestering repose of this village's loam,
That memories of my sweet spirit, Sojourning here, frequently, over almost sixty years, Would not be forgotten by the pines, their lake, its loons,
And that my poet's soul would be faithfully reflected In recitations of my northern Wisconsin testament, By glory-born sunrises and sunsets.
09/25/09 - (3)
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