By Bob McAfee
I lie prone in the window of my larger life.
Behind me the darkness of my once and current years
narrows back into the corners of a smaller infinity
tucked into a recess slightly before the end of memory.
An old man’s vision is a tunnel out of blindness,
fixed upon a larger view when the world expands,
racing away at twelve times the speed of light,
open coffin in a field of green and crimson.
Poppies dance their colors in a very private meadow,
the sound of bagpipes rolling down the mountain,
the piper in full regalia framed against the bonny hills.
Amazing Grace hums and drones as daylight fades.
In the distance I see lightning flash and begin to count,
waiting for the thunder ball that never comes.
___
Bob McAfee is a retired software consultant who lives with his wife near Boston. He has written nine books of poetry, mostly on Love, Aging, and the Natural World. For the last several years he has hosted a Wednesday night Zoom poetry workshop. Since 2019, he has had 157 poems selected by 63 different publications. Two poems were Nominated for Best of the Net. His website, www.bobmcafee.com, contains links to all his published poetry.