Snowy Afternoon Near Winter’s End

No matter how old you are
Or feel you are, you know you

Aren’t all that old, not really.
You read writers who died young

Or younger than you or not
That much older, and you’re struck

By how often they refer
To being old, when you know

They were never all that old.
But who can write of being

Young after a few decades
Of sleeping and waking up

Again and again? Thousands
Of exhausted little lives.