Basket of Gold

I find courage,

In the iris-like wilting of my fingertips...

In the way my breath sways warm

like the lake's breeze

In a sweetened youth’s hair...

In the irregular wallop of my heart,

dawdling, yet resilient — resolute in gifting me

another day.

I find peace,

by my grandson's cooing song on the guitar,

his bare fingers making such

happy music...

In the surety of my nurse filled with amuse,

who brings me limitless amounts of pudding

to please my taste-buds.

I find loveliness,

In my family who fills these summer days

by my side,

with laughter in memory of my adventurous life.

In the purr of their voices,

creating its own sonata,

when I shut my eyes and listen —

surrounded by baskets of gold...

In the trustful knowing of my husband’s eyes —

memorable in my mind,

eyes that will be there to welcome me any day now...

How excited I am to tell him of my last

venture called dying.

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