THOSE DAYS
I used to stand on my porch
and see as far as three days walk
but those days are out of reach.
Near sighted now, a concave earth
seen through crushed sand
has a bevel line to show its worth.
It used to be that I could see far away
and that partly still holds true,
but shortened sight, reined in everyday
is what constitutes the matter now.
Soon everything will be at arm’s length,
luger, cell, remote and wrinkled brow,
enough to make me want to stay,
more than enough to be going on
even if I still dream in the far away.