Nearer than you think

zach-is-king-of-the-worldIntimations of mortality are everywhere. The only antidote is to appreciate the everyday, the commonplace, the unexpected joyous moment. If you happen to be 60+ and you like poetry, the following poem will appeal.

“Refusing at Fifty-Two to Write Sonnets”

by Thomas Lynch

It came to him that he could nearly count

How many Octobers he had left to him

In increments of ten or, say, eleven

Thus: sixty-three, seventy-four, eighty-five.

He couldn’t see himself at ninety-six-

Humanity’s advances notwithstanding

In health-care, self-help, or new-age


What with his habits and family history,

The end, he thought, is nearer than you



The future, thus confined to its


The present moment opens like a gift:

The balding month, the grey week, the blue


The hour’s routine, the minute’s passing


All seem like godsends now.  And what to

make of this?

At the end the word that comes to him is



Categories: observations

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