The Long and the Short of it

A dozen or more golden-orfe,
refreshed from their winter sleep
swim, just below the surface
of his pond – mouths agog.

His grizzled, tabby cat, curled up
and dozing; tousled fur – polka dot
spotted, with petals from a plum-tree.

He’s had a full life, and a good one,
he maintains, as he sits – grey head
nodding; an April day, masquerading
as a June one.

A gentle breeze, slowly turns the pages
of his book. Doesn’t care for the long
lines of a novel; prefers instead,
or so he’ll tell you, the short truth
of a poem...

squeezes the hand of his pretty,
young nurse, as she helps him stand,
which says more than both.