This old body has its aches and pains,
but even weeds have blossoms, sweet
peas among wild billowing poppies.
All in all, it's worthwhile having bones
to give light a trellis for entangling itself,
having ligaments to give the stars
a cranny where they fall and lodge
their smaller selves; it's not so bad, this
swollen loam of blood and umber marrow.
We're like peaches with edible fuzz.
I can caress your belly, run my finger
down the fur, smell hay just after rain
and watch the willow arms of the valley
enticing mist with a whisper of creeks
into her shaded bed. All in all, the flesh
is no burden, and it's good to have a body.
There is nothing illusory about it.
Even an old one, especially an old one.
This body makes prayer possible.
Not a petition for weightless space, but
thanksgiving for the place where I am.
~A poem from the new book, 'Savor Eternity.'