40

Today I’m 40

What a world

I can’t believe

I made it this far

I remember

In grade school

Learning what a score was

Year wise

I remember thinking

It must be so cool

To be double score

Years

A couple months ago

When this whole quarantine thing

Got started

I made a couple bullshit type goals

For my soon to be 40 self

Quarantine

Would present the perfect opportunity

To lose the baby weight

Get a tan

Find the long sought

Signature haircut

For my face shape

I would do so many things

Maybe even exercise

The long confinement

And the Almighty

I guess

Had other plans

In place of self improvement

I found myself

Face to face

Every day

With my real self

No exits

In place of my more Instagram worthy

Ideals

I found myself immersed

In the things

I actually wanted to do

Like

Make my own

Mayonnaise

Steal plants

From my neighbors yard

Grow

All the things

Dance again

A lot of the things

I didn’t really care about

But thought I should

Have shuffled off me

Like snakeskin

I am swimming

In love

For my children

For the way Leroy Powell

Looks In the morning

In the evening

At me

I find

That I really like this body

She’s one tough bitch

For double score years

Three kids

Next to no sleep for the past 6 years

And all the times I have ignored her

Right into the hospital

She has more than risen

To the occasion

I don’t see 40 as some finish line

I need to cross

Lugging accomplishments and medals

Or bemoaning

The missing checks

On my list

40 is the starter pistol

The opening gate

Into the garden

It is

The wide open sea

I didn’t wake up this morning

In dread of age

Or disease

Although

My left hip

Is acting up

I woke up

Dripping in gratitude

Like honey

The joy of my life

Is so sweet

That God even created me

That I was a thought

In His mind

Before the foundations of the world

Is staggering

Maybe He was drunk

Sober or sideways

He has never left me

He has matched me

With Joy

At every turn

No good thing

Has been held back

He has been so generous

With even the small things

I didn’t know

I wanted

So this glad morning

I’m listening to birds sing

And opera

While I nurse Loretta

Down for a nap

Wearing a ragged t shirt

Leroy’s sweat pants

And my overgrown

Haircut

I feel

Like a Beauty Queen

Like Walt Whitman

Singing a Song of Myself

Into the world

A song I can teach

To my children

And to their children

To the ocean wide

The swooping hawks

The downtrodden and desperate

A thankful tune

To the one who made me

To the ones

Who will be in the world

Because of me

This vessel

This frame of flesh

Is tuned

To concert pitch

For the forty

Yet to be