Men at Forty
Men at forty
Learn to close softly
The doors to rooms they will not be
Coming back to.
At rest on a stair landing,
They feel it moving
Beneath them now like the deck of a ship,
Though the swell is gentle.
And deep in mirrors
They rediscover
The face of the boy as he practices tying
His father's tie there in secret
And the face of the father,
Still warm with the mystery of lather.
They are more fathers than sons themselves now.
Something is filling them, something
That is like the twilight sound
Of the crickets, immense,
Filling the woods at the foot of the slope
Behind their mortgaged houses.
Happy Birthday!
Posted by: mark | August 21, 2008 at 01:25 PM
Right there with you, buddy. I will think of you while I ice my back.
Posted by: Franklin | August 25, 2008 at 02:21 PM
what kind of wussy 40 are you?
i'm gonna live to at least a healthy hundred... which means only 20 years of adulthood behind me and 60 still to come.
40 is way too young to be resting on stair landings. don't go creaky yet.
Posted by: martin | August 27, 2008 at 04:40 PM
what kind of wussy 40 are you?
The extremely wussy kind. I was born creaky--can't help it.
Posted by: JL | August 27, 2008 at 05:01 PM
Men at 40:
Mature, Handsome, Interesting, Worldly
Sometimes childlike, but not childish
They're only getting better
Birthday hugs from the road :)
Posted by: SuperGirl | August 27, 2008 at 06:33 PM
Donald Justice reminds me of E.B.White after a few beers.
Posted by: Jimmy Jam | October 13, 2008 at 08:38 AM