Poem: Age

Photo Cliff Scholz

We keep the candle lit
because the flame is just as bright
as in years gone by
when everything seemed long,
but now that it illuminates the other end  
	so full and deep
we stay awake forever if we can,
and begin a new and sober vigil
that follows us
	even in our lighter sleep.
 
Snow falls outside and we turn
startled from our dreams as the wind
picks up and moves towards us fast
	with its mouth open in a crazy smile.
Yet somewhere far away, the air is still
and warm, and chickens are fed 
by a tired woman who only wants
	to finish working for awhile.
 
This is what we know, and other things,
perhaps changing slowly with time
like the stories we’ve so urgently told
to ourselves and the faces that appear
	in the shadows of our lights,
but little by little we forget all that,
and keep our eyes upon the flame,
	and stay up nights.