Eightieth Year

My eightieth year started rainy and gray.
So did my spirit, with husband's greeting
That "going on eighty" commences today.
Hey, wait a minute!  What's going on?

Though my head is white, not even gray,
This special designation comes too soon.
Yet joy in the little as in mountain array
Says I'm here, here right where I belong.

Hear?  A concert of rock music, 1968
All but removed my eardrums tonight.
I'll sit this one out, better never than late
And leave Dick sitting alone for a spell.

I pondered a gallery showing abstract art,
Resisting to admire any at first.
Then, absorbing colors, layers, depth, and plan
Their glory, abandon, and stretch upon me burst.

Our world I love, all the infinite, and
Persons who excite me in daily encounters,
As chords are struck, minds are met.
Eightieth year?  Heaven-bound are these hunters.

Jaeger means hunter, and seventy-nine is on the mark!

Marilyn Jaeger, February 15, 2018